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TOWARDS 
THE RISING SUN 



A Story of Travel and Adventure 

BY 

SIGMUND KRAUSZ 



PERSONAL OBSERVATIONS IN THE CLASSICAL ORIENT. 
INTERESTING SCENES AND TYPES MOSTLY 
FROM PHOTOGRAPHS BY THE AUTHOR 



Also in German tinder the title " Zn Land nnd See im 0?'ient " 




CHICAGO 

Laird & Lee, Publishers 



THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

Two Copies Received 

JUL 6 1903 

Copyngnt Entry 

CLASS fa XXc No. 

^ t * M- * 

COPY 8. 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 19031 
By William H. Lee, 
in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at 
Washington, D. C. 



ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



JnttrttlurtuM. 



It is at the earnest solicitation of many friends who 
have fallowed with interest some of my descriptive articles 
in English and German magazines and dailies, that I have 
undertaken the work which I present herewith to the pub- 
lic at large. 

In doing this I wish to state that some of my published 
matter has been embodied in this book although in thor- 
oughly revised form, which fact. I sincerely hope, will 
not diminish the interest of those readers who have hap- 
pened to run across one or the other chapter in the abbre- 
viated form of newspaper correspondence. 

My aim throughout the book has been to go as little as 
possible into description of the kind which guide books 
offer, as it was not such a work that I wished to present 
to the public. There are plenty of those. A plain nar- 
rative in which I relate incidents, adventures, impressions 
and personal observations in the countries visited was 
what I strived to produce, and while traveling I have been 
looking at things only in a way that any intelligent trav- 
eler would do. However, certain descriptive matter can- 
not be entirely omitted, but I have confined myself in this 
regard to subjects which are either of eternal interest or 
are somewhat off the beaten track of American tourists. 

I have also given some attention to the traveling people 
met with on steamers and railroads and which frequently 
offer as much opportunity for study and amusement as 
many sights of minor interest. It is-even my opinion that 
observations of this kind are not am„ng the least interest- 
ing and ( from an educational point of view) profitable 
experiences of an extended voyage. 



— 6 — 



It has been my good luck to have had some experiences 
on my journey which do not ordinarily fall to the lot of 
the tourist and I claim that some of my illustrations relat- 
ing directly to the text are perhaps unique. If the latter 
do not always come up entirely to the highest standard, I 
beg the reader to consider that the original photographs 
were taken with a small Eastman's Bull's-Eye Kodak and 
that the quality of the negatives was often impaired by 
the handling of native photographers to whom I had to 
entrust the developing. 

The route which I have followed begins at Constan- 
tinople, leads to the classic shores of Asia Minor, Greece 
and Egypt, and extends from there through the Red Sea 
to beautiful Ceylon, Calcutta and overland through Cen- 
tral India to Bombay. These countries have ever been 
considered the cradle of humanity and civilization, and I 
do not know of another route taking in so many historical 
and interesting sights as can be seen on this voyage within 
the comparatively short time of a few winter months. 

To those in whose hearts this work will create a desire 
to follow in my footsteps and who can gratify such a 
desire by having means and leisure at disposal, all I say 
is : Go and do likewise ! There is no better educator for 
the inexperienced and no greater pleasure for the intel- 
lectual than travel. 

The Author. 



TaJxfe xtf Qfanteuls* 



I. Departure from Constantinople. — The Prince of 
Samos. — Passenger Types. — The Hellespont and 
the Coast of Troy. — Suicide at Sea. — An Evening 
at Mithylene— Arrival at Smyrna 15 

II. Ancient and Modern Smyrna. — The Quay. — The Rue 
Franque and Rue Parallele. — The Bazaar. — The 

Caravan Bridge. — Mont Pagus. — Mr. E — 

Environs of Smyrna. — A Memorial of Sesostris. 
29 

III. Excursion to Ephesus. — Impressions. — Gypsy Types 

in Turbali. — Turkish Railway Conditions. — The 

Ruins— The Decline and Fall of Mr. E —The 

Bandits. — Our Candid Host. — Lament of Mr. E. . . 
—The Shrewd Conductor 42 

IV. Arrival in Vathy. — More About Musurus Bey. — Mod- 

ern Samos. — Samian Fleas. — Ruins of Samos. — • 
An American Party on the "Jupiter." — Castoria 
and Poluxena. — Approach to Piraeus. — Entry into 
Athens with Obstacles 58 

V. Athens. — Modern Street Sketches. — Sidewalk Monop- 
oly. — Itinerant Merchants. — A Greek Funeral. — 
A Peculiar Cemetery. — The Evangelistaria. — The 
Acropolis in Moonlight. — Apollo, the Professor of 
Music 7G> 

VI. Greek Prisons. — Phrenological Researches by Miss 
Elizabeth. — A Democratic Court. — Panorama 
from the Lycabettus. — On the "Czar Nicholas II." 
— Passengers to Alexandria. — A Lucky Dog. — Re- 
venge. — Landing in Egypt 91 



— 8 — 



VII. Alexandria, Old and New. — An Arab Funeral. — The 
Column of Pompey. — Egyptian Railways. — From 
Alexandria to Cairo. — Factory Chimneys and 
Mosques; Electric Cars and Pyramids 107 

VIII. Cairo. — Tobey and Jim Corbett. — Streets and Types- 
Egyptian Peddlers. — In the Bazaar. — Hotel Con- 
ditions—The Fish Market —Arab Story-Tellers — 
Dervishes. — Religious Humbug 118 

IX. The Mummies of the Pharaohs. — American Push in 
Egypt. — On the Top of Cheops' Pyramid. — Mark 
Twain. — An Adventure in the Bowels of the Pyra- 
mid. — Achmed. — Memphis. — Achmed's Sacrifice. — 
The Tomb of Ti— The Apis Tombs 135 

X. From Cairo to Luxor. — Thebes, the Ancient City of 

Hundred Gates— Blind Children.— The Ruins of 
Karnak. — The Temple of Luxor. — In the Valley of 
Death. — Cook Tactics. — The Greatest Statue in 
the World. — The Colossi of Memnon. — Roman and 
Greek Globe Trotters.— Karl Neufeld 155 

XI. Through Goshen. — Tel-el-Kebir. — Ismailia. — In the 

Red Sea. — English Travelers. — Perim. — Divers 
and Merchants of Aden.— Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay !— 
Sokotra. — P. & O. Officers.— Landing in Ceylon. 
174 

XII. In the Harbor of Colombo— Catamarans.— Sharks and 
Divers.— Hotels in Ceylon.— Crows as Execution- 
ers.— Jugglers.— Tropical Street Views.— Moham- 
medan Jewelers— Peculiar Vehicles.— The Cinna- 
mon Gardens.— The Cocoanut Palm— Ridiculous 
Caste Spirit Among Servants 180 



— 9 — 



XIII. Excursion to -Randy— The Shrine of the Tooth— The 
Paradeniya Gardens. — Elephant Procession and 
Devil-Dancers. — Randyan Chiefs. — Ali Fehmi 
Pasha 197 



XIV. Tropical Heat.— On the "Valetta."— Phileas Fogg II. 

— Caloo. — Entrance into the Hooghli River. — Dis- 
agreeable Roommates. — Calcutta Observations. — 
A Giant Tree. — In a Parsee Theatre. — Native Re- 
spect for White Race. — The Howrah Bridge. — 
The Bathing Ghats. — Burning of Plague Bodies. — 
Ralighat. — Fight Between Cobra and Mongoose. 
208 



XV. Plague Inspection. — Benares. — Hindoo New Year. — 
The Shore of the Ganges. — Adventure in the Mon- 
key Temple. — Floating Corpses in the Ganges. — 
The Bathing Pilgrims. — Fakirs. — A Solomonic 
Judgment. — Lucknow. — Buttered Heads 224 

XVI. Approach to Agra. — Renari Bazaar. — Ekkas. — The 
Taj Mahal. — Cenotaphs of Shah Jehan and Wife. 
— The Pearl Mosque. — The Jasmine Pavilion. — 
The Itimad ud Dowla. — Fattehpoor-Sikkri. — Ak- 
bar's Tomb in Secundra.— The Original Recepta- 
cle of the Rohinoor Diamond 240 



XVII. Change of Cars in Pajamas. — Arrival in Delhi- 
Mogul Buildings. — Fiery Headed Old Men. — 
Chandni Chauk. — A Suspicious Nautch Dance. — 
A Dangerous Incident. — At the Tomb of Ring 
Cherrybrandy. — The Jama Musjid. — The Rutab 
Minar. — A Mysterious Monument. — Again Mr. R. 
252 



— 10 - 



XVIII. From Delhi to Jeypore. — Caloo Gives Notice of Leave. 

— Native States. — The Kaiser i Hind Hotel. — 
Royal Service. — Jeypore. — Famine Sufferers. — 
Chase with Leopards. — The Palace of the Maha- 
rajah. — Sawai Madhosingh II. — A Primitive Mint. 

— Excursion to Amber. — Elephant Ride. — Caloo 
Leaves 265 



NIN. To Bombay.— Wild Monkeys— More Famine Suffer- 
ers. — Plague Camps. — A Modern City. — Plague 
Epidemic. — Peculiar Types. — An Asylum for Va- 
grant and Sick Animals. — Esplanade Row. — The 
Caves of Kennery and Mont Pezir. — The Cave 
Temple of Elephanta 278 



XX. The Parsees of Bombay. — Their Language, Costumes, 
Manners and Habits. — Religious Ceremonies. — 
Peculiarity of Names. — Investiture with Sudra 
and Kusti. — Wedding Customs. — The Religion of 
Zoroaster. — Shehenshahi and Kuclmi. — The Fire 
Temple. — The Parsee Calendar. — The Burial Com- 
pound. — The Towers of Silence. — A Parsee Fun- 
eral 289 



I^ist rrf gllusirEttmts- 



Chapter. Page. 

Frontispiece 2 

I. Musurus Bey, Prince of Samos 17 

Female Passenger Types, S. S. Apollo 19 

Male Passenger Types, S. S. Apollo 23 

Custom House Landing in Smyrna 27 

II. View of Smyrna 31 

The Quay in Smyrna 35 

Genoese Ruin on Mont Pagus, Smyrna 39 

III. Gypsy Types in Turbali 43 

Roman Aqueduct near Ephesus 47 

Ruins of an Antique Theatre in Ephesus 49 

Ruins of a Market Place in Ephesus 53 

Old Genoese Castle near Ephesus 55 

IV. Harbor of Vathy, Samos 59 

Samian Sailing Boat 63 

Distant View of the Acropolis 67 

A^iew of Athens from the Acropolis 73 

V. The Royal Palace in Athens 78 

Ruins of the Jupiter Temple in Athens 81 

Choragic Monument of Lysicrates, Athens 85 

Temple of the Wingless Victory, Athens 89 

VI. Hill of the Nymphs and Observatory, Athens 93 

The Ancient Cemetery of Athens 97 

Tartar Type on S. S. "Nicholas II." 101 

Turkish Passenger on S. S. "Nicholas II." 103 

VII. Monument of Mehemet Ali in Alexandria 109 

An Arab Cemetery in Alexandria Ill 

Arab Family 115 



— 12 — 



Chapter. Page. 

VIII, View of Cairo 119 

Invitation to an Arab Wedding 123 

Banyan Tree in the Esbekieh Garden, Cairo 129 

The Pyramids of Gizeh 133 

IX. The Mummy of Rameses II 137 

American Enterprise 139 

The Sphinx 145 

On the Way to Sakkara (Acnmed in Background). 149 

The Step Pyramid, Sakkara 153 

X. The Road to Karnak 157 

General View of Ruins of Karnak 159 

The Pylon of Evergetes 1 161 

Columns in Temple of Rameses II 163 

Hall of Alexander the Great 165 

Fording a Shallow Nile Arm 167 

Biban el Mulook, the Valley of Death 169 

Entrance to Tomb of Sethi 1 171 

XL The Suez Canal near Ismailia 177 

Arab Coast near Aden 181 

In the Harbor of Colombo. Ceylon 183 

XII. Street in Colombo 187 

Mohammedan Jewelers in Colombo 191 

Bullock Cart in Colombo 193 

A Singhalese 195 

XIII. A Tamil Lady 199 

The Shrine of the Tooth, Kandy 201 

Bamboo in the Paradeniya Gardens, Kandy 202 

One of the Sacred Elephants in the Mahavili Gan- 

ga, Kandy 203 

Devil Dancers 205 

Kandyan Chiefs (Four Brothers) 207 

XIV. Garriwalla and Caloo 209 

The Howrah Bridge in Calcutta 211 

A Native Policeman 213 

Burning of Plague Bodies; First Stage 215 

Burning of Plague Bodies; Second Stage 219 

A Snake Charmer and Juggler 221 



— 13 — 



Chapter. Page - 

XY. The Mosque of Aurangzeb, Benares 227 

In the Court of the Monkey Temple 229 

The Burning Ghat of Benares 231 

The Bathing Ghat of Benares • 233 

Group of Dervishes 237 

XVI. An Ekka 241 

A Starving Beggar Boy 243 

Buffalo Carrying Dried Dung 245 

The Taj Mahal in Agra 247 

The Tomb of Akbar in Sikkandra 249 

XVII. The Cashmere Gate in Delhi 255 

Chandny Chauk, Delhi 257 

The Defiled Fountain 259 

The Golden Mosque, Delhi 261 

XVIII. Street in Jeypore 267 

Famine Types in the Rajputana District 269 

The Palace of the Winds, Jeypore 271 

The Palace of the Maharajah of Jeypore 273 

An Itinerant Fakir 275 

An Elephant Carriage 277 

XIX. Burning of Famine Victims in the Province of 

Bombay 279 

Victoria Station, Bombay 281 

Native Street, Bombay 283 

The Author on the Island of Elephanta 285 

The Cave Temples of Elephanta 287 

XX. An Orthodox Parsee Gentleman 291 

A Parsee "Mobed" 297 



The Tower of Silence, Malabar Hill, Bombay. . . . 299 



I. 



Departure from Constantinople. — The Prince of 
Samos. — Passenger Types. — The Hellespont and 
the Coast of Troy. — Suicide at Sea. — An Evening 
at Mithylene. — Arrival in Smyrna. 

For the first time in a week the sun was shining 
brightly upon the labyrinth of houses forming that part 
of Constantinople which is called "Pera." It seemed as 
if Old Sol would share my pleasure as I stood upon the 
deck of the Austrian Lloyd steamer "Apollo" and saw 
the Golden Horn, the old Seraglio, the Mosque of St. 
Sophia gradually disappear on the horizon. 

I was overjoyed to escape the dirt, the dogs, the rancid 
fish odors, and most of all the awful night-watchmen who 
for the last eight nights had disturbed my rest. The poor 
devils are, however, excusable since it is an ancient cus- 
tom of Turkish night-watchmen to inform their constitu- 
ents by the continual knocking of their heavy iron-shod 
canes upon the pavement that they are alert in the per- 
formance of their duties. Such an uninterrupted tattoo, 
kept up during the whole night, is not conducive to sleep, 
and during the past week my nerves had been in a state 
of extreme tension. Heavy rains had been interrupted 
only by light snows, and the inch-deep slippery mud upon 
the cobble-stone pavements had kept me almost a prisoner 
in the hotel. Under such conditions I was glad to leave 
old Byzanz behind me, and walked the upper deck with 
light steps and heart, enjoying the beautiful panorama 
of the Bosphorus which stretched to the right and left. 



- 16 — 



The classic and the modern here pass kaleidoscopically 
before mind and eye. Where to-day modern forts, armed 
with Krupp guns, threaten from the shores lorded over by 
the Turk, once the hordes of Darius, the Goths and the 
Crusaders ruled in succession ; upon these same waters, 
now furrowed by modern steamships, sailed the vessels of 
the Argonauts. 

Only too soon were we out of the strait and on the Sea 
of Marmora. The hilly shores retreated on both sides, 
and the picturesque group of the Prince Islands, guarding 
the entrance to the Bosphorus, were soon visible only in 
misty outlines. I now devoted my attention to the steamer 
and its passengers. The large Turkish flag flying from 
the highest mast first attracted my attention, since the 
hoisting of it on an Austrian passenger-boat indicated the 
presence on board of some high Turkish official. In an- 
swer to my question, the captain told me that we had on 
board the Prince and Princess of Samos with their suite 
of servants. The Prince of Samos ! What an interesting 
personality ! While not a direct descendant of the myth- 
ical Polycrates, owing his exalted station only to the Sul- 
tan's grace, he still rules, almost independently over that 
classical island off the shores of Asia Minor. I was natu- 
rally anxious to see him and when the captain further 
informed me that the Prince and Princess, beside myself, 
were the only first-class passengers, and that we were to 
have seats in the dining-room at his table, I was glad that 
fate had thus favored my desires. 

The passengers of the second cabin, of whom there 
were but few, and those of the crowded steerage, con- 
sisted largely of Greeks, Turks and Syrians, the male sex 
predominating by far. Here and there a broad face with 
prominent cheek bones betrayed a traveler from the north- 
ern shores of the Black Sea. Of the female passengers 



— 17 — 



only a small group of two women with several children 
were interesting. They had made themselves comfortable 
for the trip upon pillows and rugs in a well-protected 
part of the lower deck. Their costumes and half-veiled 
faces stamped them Syrian Mohammedans, and the trait- 
orous white Yashmak of one of them showed plainly the 




Musurus Bey, Prince of Samos 



outlines of a youthful face, out of which a pair of bril- 
liant black eyes looked about inquisitively. Close to this 
group sat, Turkish fashion, an elderly man who occasion- 
ally exchanged a few words with the women and whose 
main occupation was the rolling and smoking of cigar- 
ettes. The two women were also smoking, but under 



— 18 — 



difficulties, as they were compelled to lift their Yashmaks 
carefully for every pull at their cigarettes. 

While I was walking about among the groups of trav- 
elers, it had become noon, and the steward's bell was call- 
ing to dinner. I hurried to my cabin and soon after 
entered the dining-room. At the only table set, the cap- 
tain, the Prince and the Princess were already in their 
seats. The steward showed me to my place, next to the 
Princess, and a mutual introduction by the captain fol- 
lowed. The Prince was a squatty man, slightly embon- 
point, with brown hair and full beard, both mixed with 
gray. According to Turkish fashion, he kept his fez 
upon his head during the meal. Although a Greek, his 
features did not betray the slightest trace of that type. 
The Princess was an amiable lady of about forty years, 
whose face, although having lost some of its former 
beauty, could still be called very attractive. Musurus Bey, 
I learned afterwards, had married her as the daughter of a 
rich Greek merchant in Alexandria. Before he had been 
appointed to his present office, he had represented the 
Sublime Porte as Minister Plenipotentiary at various Eu- 
ropean courts, and he, as well as the Princess, spoke six 
modern languages with the fluency peculiar to natives of 
the Levant. 

The conversation turned upon the occurrences of the 
day, and at first Italian was spoken, which language I did 
not understand sufficiently to participate. The captain, 
on the other hand, understood but little English, and we, 
therefore, soon fell into French, with which we all were 
familiar. The subject soon changed to America and 
American political and commercial conditions, concerning 
which the Prince showed a lively interest. After dinner 
we enjoyed our cigars, sitting on the upper deck, in ani- 
mated conversation, which was this time in English, and 



— 19 - 



later the Princess joined us. In the course of the after- 
noon I found Muslims Bey to be an enthusiastic amateur 
photographer, although a novice, and I had occasion to 
give him some useful points in the art of Daguerre, which 
tended to make our intercourse more intimate. We photo- 
graphed each other, exchanged cards, and before the 




Female Passenger Types, S. S. Apollo. 



steamer arrived in Gallipoli, near the northern entrance of 
the Dardanelles, I received a kind invitation from Mus- 
urus Bey to visit him and his island from Smyrna, which 
was my next point of travel. 

The "Apollo" dropped anchor for a few hours in the 
Port of Rodosto and did not pass the Dardanelles until 



— 20 — 



the next morning-. With early dawn I was awake so as 
not to miss any part of the interesting classical shores. 
The sun rose above a magnificent landscape in which the 
geometrical lines of forts and hidden batteries were re- 
lieved by the soft outlines of barren or wooded hills and 
white groups of houses which seemed to be pasted to the 
slopes. 

Across what part of this old Hellespont did Leander 
swim and on what promontory did Hero await him ? To 
be sure, there is a Leander Tower (also called the Tower 
of the Virgin) at the outlet of the Bosphorus into the Sea 
of Marmora, but it is certain that shores of the Helles- 
pont and not the Bosphorus were the nightly meeting- 
place of the celebrated lovers. 

Even more than the Bosphorus, the Hellespont has its 
historical reminiscences. Almost opposite Gallipoli on the 
Asiatic side was situated old Lampsacus, to-day an insig- 
nificant hamlet. Farther south on the European side, the 
mouth of the Kara-ova-sou designates the ancient Aegos 
Potamos, where Lysander conquered the Athenians and 
thereby put an end to the Peloponnesian war. Then fol- 
low the sites of Sestos and Abydos between which places 
Xerxes struck his famous bridge across the Hellespont. 
Upon an elevation dominating Sestos stands Castle Zem- 
enik, upon the walls of which the Turkish flag was first 
planted on European soil by Soliman I. Nearer to the 
Aegean Sea are situated the castles of the Dardanelles 
from which the Strait derives its name, and the fortifica- 
tions of Eski-Hissarlik near which some ruins mark the 
site of ancient Leontis. At the outlet of the Dardanelles, 
near Yeni-Shehr, two mounds, which are generally pointed 
out to the travelers by some obliging officer, attract the 
attention. They are supposed to be the tombs of Achilles 
and Patroclus. Not far from here is the mouth of the 



t 

— 21 — 



Homeric Skamander which winds its way through the 
plain of Troy. Hoary reminiscences crowd each other 
at the view of these classical sites and call forth the shades 
of Ulysses, Agamemnon and other heroes of the Iliad. 
The steamer sails close to the shore and keeps its course 
between the coast and the Island of Imbros. Soon Ten- 
edos comes in sight. From this place came the serpents 
to which Laocoon and his sons fell prey, and in that bay 
yonder, the Greeks hid their fleet after leaving the wooden 
horse of Ulysses before Troy. 

"Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes." 
With such thoughts as these I sat the whole day upon 
the deck, only occasionally exchanging a few words with 
the Prince, who was occupied in taking snapshots of the 
passengers and the coast. To him and the Princess, all 
this had become commonplace. They had made the trip 
too often. Late in the afternoon, Lesbos, the modern 
Mithylene, came in view. As we approached this island 
where the "Apollo" was to stop for a few hours, Tenedos 
was still showing- in the north above the water-line, and 
Lemnos, with its double summit of volcanic origin where 
mvthology places the forge of Vulcan, remained plainly 
visible. 

While the steamer rapidly approached the jumbled mass 
of white houses appearing in the background of the Bay 
of Mithylene, excited screams from the stern end sud- 
denly rent the air. Everyone hurriedly repaired to that 
part of the boat. Passengers and sailors were crowding 
each other at the railing, pointing excitedly to a dark 
object which appeared at some distance upon the lightly 
undulating waves. A passenger had jumped overboard. 
The order to reverse the engine had already been given, 
and soon the steamer stopped. Within a few moments a 



— 22 — 



boat was lowered and the first officer with several sailors 
rowed quickly towards the place where the dark object 
still showed on the surface. After a few minutes they 
had reached it, and the body, which had been kept afloat 
by a wide furkaftan, was pulled into the boat. Meanwhile 
the ship's ladder had been lowered, and the unconscious 
suicide, a well-dressed Turkish passenger of the second 
cabin, was soon laid out on deck. The surgeon was al- 
ready waiting, and, with the help of a few sailors, imme- 
diately began work upon the body, trying to fan the dying 
spark into life again. Although hardly ten or fifteen min- 
utes had elapsed between the jumping overboard and the 
picking up of the body, there was no sign of life discern- 
ible, and after two hours' of hard work the perspiring 
physician and his assistants gave up as vain all further 
attempts. 

This sad incident prolonged our stay in Mithylene, as a 
report to the authorities had to be made regarding the 
suicide, after his body had been taken ashore. It had 
become dark by the time the necessary formalities were 
concluded, and since I had waited for the ship's surgeon, 
who had offered to go ashore with me, we had hardly two 
or three hours left for a stroll through the poorly lighted 
streets. It is natural that under the circumstances we 
could not get a full and correct impression of the town. 
We could, however, observe that the streets were fairly 
clean, and that the handsome white houses, many of which 
were built of wood, indicated a general prosperity. The 
sound of music coming from several cafes tempted us to 
enter one for the purpose of taking refreshments and to 
observe its frequenters more closely. We had not been 
seated long, when an itinerant vender offered us some 
illustrated postal-cards of the town. Each of us had a 
list of names of collectors in our note-books, so we availed 



— 23 — 



ourselves of the opportunity to buy and send off a few of 
these handy messages. 

Concerning this subject of souvenir postal-cards, I 
should like to give my readers a well-meant warning to 
keep secret any traveling plans they may have, and more 
so from European friends and acquaintances. The mania 




Male Passenger Types, S. S. Apollo. 

for collecting these souvenirs is raging in Europe to such 
a degree, especially among the dear ladies, that not only 
relatives and friends, but simple acquaintances and casual 
traveling companions besiege you most urgently, as soon 
as it becomes known that you are about to undertake a 
long voyage. If the journey is to extend to countries 



— 24 — 



off the beaten track of tourists, it may happen that requests 
for pictorial postal-cards are received verbally or by letter 
from young ladies whom you have, perhaps, a speaking 
acquaintance, or even by entire strangers. "Oh ! how I 
envy you," "How I would like to travel with you," and 
"I certainly will return the favor," etc., is what they tell 
you with their most bewitching smile, and it is very hard 
to deny such a modest request. During a long trip 
through Europe several years ago, I had a list of not less 
than forty-four persons, among whom there was even an 
old Austrian colonel, to all of whom I had promised to 
send at least one postal-card from every large city which 
I visited. At first this did not cause me much inconven- 
ience, and I kept my promise conscientiously; very soon, 
however, I found that I had taken upon me a heavier bur- 
den than I could carry, for aside from the not inconsider- 
able expense (I spent more than $30 for postal-cards dur- 
ing that trip) the loss of time even if I only addressed, 
dated and signed these cards, was such that I was com- 
pelled gradually to cut down my list and at last I retained 
on it only the names of relatives and intimate friends. On 
my present voyage I had dropped even some of these and 
yet I had sixteen addresses in my note-book. However, 
I derive some consolation from the fact that my co- 
sufferers are legion and in spite of my own troubles I can- 
not suppress a malicious smile when I see them immedi- 
ately upon arriving at a hotel, rush to the "portier" for 
that kind of stationery. They frequently do not even take 
the time to brush off the dust of travel before hastening 
into the writing-room. 

The rapidity with which manufacturers and merchants 
have taken advantage of this collecting mania, is remark- 
able, and one may now get souvenir cards in most out-of- 
the-way places, where one would hardly expect to find 



— 25 — 



them, as, for example, in Ephesus, Luxor, Aden, Kandy, 
Benares, etc. Nearly all of them are "made in Germany." 

The postal-card vender was followed by other peddlers 
who offered various knicknacks, and since we were the 
only strangers in the cafe, we soon had the attention of 
the natives centered upon us. A young man offered us 
some ancient Greek coins, among which I found a really 
beautiful and rare piece, but the price asked was so high 
that I had to abandon the idea of buying, much as I would 
have liked to own it. 

My interest in coins was soon noticed and another 
young man offered to take us to a dealer in the neighbor- 
hood, who, as he assured us, kept a fine stock of coins and 
other antiquities at reasonable prices. As we had more 
than an hour at our disposal we accepted this offer and 
followed our guide through several dark and narrow 
streets into a comfortable-looking house where we were 
received by a stately Greek matron. The merchant him- 
self was not at home, but we were invited to enter a neatly- 
furnished reception-room on the ground floor and a mes- 
senger was immediately dispatched for the master of the 
house. 

While we were waiting for the latter, two very hand- 
some young girls of truest Greek type emerged from the 
upper rooms with some refreshments on a platter. The 
latter consisted of a cup of conserves in which a small 
spoon was placed and of two glasses filled with water. 
The platter was first offered to me, but since I did not 
know what to do with the things on it I allowed it to be 
passed to the doctor, ostensibly out of politeness, but in 
reality, to observe the way in which he would help him- 
self. He had often before visited the islands of the Greek 
Archipelago, spoke some modern Greek, and in all prob- 
ability knew how to take the refreshments in the proper 



— 26 — 



way. I, for my part, did not know what to do with a cup 
of conserves, a single spoon and two glasses of water. 
The doctor justified my expectations to the fullest degree 
by mixing some of the conserves with the spoon into a 
glass of water, which mixture he drank after returning 
the spoon to the cup. The girls, however, must have 
noticed the object of my passing the platter for they were 
giggling together in a corner while observing me with 
furtive glances. Shortly after the master of the house 
appeared and the young girls retired with their mother, 
after heartily shaking hands with us and wishing us God- 
speed. We examined with great interest a number of 
beautiful vases, terra cotta figures and coins which were 
kept in an adjoining room, but we became suspicious when 
I discovered several excellent forgeries among the latter, 
and decided not to buy anything. We, therefore, took 
leave as soon as possible under the excuse of being in too 
great a hurry to make a selection. Our boat was waiting 
at the quay and we were quickly rowed to our steamer, 
which soon after raised anchor. 

Next morning we were near the entrance to the Bay of 
Smyrna. I made use of the time until landing by photo- 
graphing several types of passengers who were specially 
attractive. With the help of an interpreter and a good 
baksheesh I succeeded in getting a picture, without yash- 
mak, of the younger one of the Syrian women mentioned 
before. An old Turk furnished a fine model of a biblical 
Patriarch. Some trouble, but much fun, I had with an- 
other Turk whom I tried to photograph, and who, noticing 
my intentions, succeeded for a long time in thwarting my 
object. At last I succeeded in getting a snap-shot of him 
just as he turned around with a satirical smile thinking 
that he had escaped another attempt. His smile on the 



— 27 — 



picture seems to say: "You can't catch me with your 
infernal machine." 

Coming from the sea, the view of Smyrna is magnificent. 
In the background appears the city with its white houses, 
cupolas and minarets stretching in a semi-circle around 




Custom House landing in Smyrna. 



the blue water of the harbor. To the north and separated 
from the city by a fertile valley, a range of hills rises 
against the horizon, while the view towards the south is 
limited by a sharp line of rugged mountains. Out of 
these rise the imposing summits of the "Two Brothers." 
Directly beyond the city rises Mont Pagus, the top of 



— 28 — 



which is crowned by the ruins of a Genoese castle. The 
coloring of the landscape is thoroughly Oriental, and the 
sky is of that transparent deep blue which forms the 
despair of all painters who try to reproduce it. 

The landing is made in small boats which surround the 
steamer immediately after the anchor has dropped, the 
boatsmen noisily soliciting the patronage of the travelers. 
After I had taken leave of Musurus Bey and the Princess, 
who once more invited me to be sure and visit Samos, I 
was rowed to the passenger custom house next to the 
landing bridge which stretches out into the harbor. A 
great crowd of officials, boatsmen, hammals and passen- 
gers filled the building. It was well that I had provided 
myself in Constantinople with a "Teskireh" (Turkish 
passport) without which no passenger is allowed to land. 
Foreign passports in the Sultan's domain are only good 
for Constantinople, and for the purpose of visiting other 
places, especially in Asiatic Turkey, it is absolutely neces- 
sary to have a special passport issued by the Turkish 
police authorities of the capital. 



II. 



Ancient and Modern Smyrna. — The Quay. — The 
Rue Franoue and Rue Parallele. — The Bazaar. — 

The Caravan Bridge. — Mont Pagus. — Mr. E — 

Environs of Smyrna. — A Memorial of Sesostris. 

Smyrna, in ancient times one of the wealthiest towns 
of Ionia, is one of the few historical cities which have 
preserved at least part of their former importance up to 
the present age. It is, however, hard to understand to- 
day by what qualities she may have gained the exagger- 
ated epithets by which she has been known in ancient and 
modern times, such as "Smyrna the lovely," "The eye of 
Anatolia," "The crown of Ionia," "The pearl of the Ori- 
ent," etc. The stranger, at least, cannot find, even during 
a prolonged stay, anything besides the magnificent cli- 
mate, the beautiful gulf and the deep blue sky, that would 
justify these epithets. True, Smyrna at one time was an 
important city, the commercial center of the whole great 
territory of Asia Minor and even more distant eastern 
countries which sent here their caravans laden with Ori- 
ental products to be exchanged for the goods of the Occi- 
dent. Since the introduction of steamers, however, and 
the growth of other seaports on the coast of Asia Minor, 
caused by the ever increasing steamship lines, its erst- 
while monopoly of trade has been broken. Syria, Armenia 
and Persia are to-day independent of Smyrna, exporting 
and receiving their products largely through other chan- 
nels. There was even a time for Smyrna, about the mid- 
dle of the last century, when commerce and industry were 
lying fallow, when its harbor was almost forsaken and its 



- 30 - 



streets bore no sign of the commercial activity which had 
made the city in ancient times the queen of Asia Minor. 
Lately long-needed reforms in commerce and industry, as 
well as two railroad lines leading into the interior, have 
improved conditions considerably, and the city has re- 
gained part of its former importance. Next to Constan- 
tinople, Smyrna is certainly to-day the largest commercial 
city of the Turkish Empire, and its harbor shows again 
something of the life which characterized it in ancient 
times. 

Smyrna saw its greatest period of prosperity and splen- 
dor shortly after its rebuilding by Antigonus and Lysim- 
achus, before which, for nearly 400 years, i.e., since its 
total destruction in 627 B. C, it had lain in ruins. Since 
then, its importance as a commercial place has slowly but 
steadily decreased, while it fell successively into the hands 
of many conquerors, such as the Greeks, Romans, Vene- 
tians, Genoese and Turks. 

The glory of the city in antiquity did not rest alone upon 
its commerce, and there was a time when its inhabitants 
were known for their love of art and literature. Smyrna 
boasted once of one of the most renowned schools of rhet- 
oric and philosophy, and disputed with six other cities the 
honor of being the birthplace of immortal Homer. Of the 
statue and the temple erected to the poet of the Iliad, there 
are, however, no traces left. Neither can the grotto on the 
shore of the little stream Meles be found, where Homer 
was said to have composed some of his epics. It seems 
as if the people of Smyrna are lacking that ingenuity 
which makes out of a water-hole a "Moses Well" and a 
plume from the wings of the Archangel Gabriel out of a 
parrot-feather. 

There are hardly any antique remains left in Smyrna, 
and the interest of the traveler centers mainly in the pict- 



— 31 - 



uresque activity of the Frank, Greek, Armenian and Jew- 
ish quarters, the great bazaar, the rug and carpet stores, 
and the port. The latter now generally harbors quite a 
number of vessels, among which the German, Austrian 
and Russian flags predominate. Greece and Italy are also 
represented by a considerable number of smaller craft. 




View of Smyrna. 

A stroll along the quays which extend a distance of 
about two miles, is generally the first thing a stranger un- 
dertakes after making himself comfortable in the hotel. 
A street-car line girdles the harbor completely, and offers 
a peculiar contrast to groups of camels walking with long 
strides a 1 ongside the tracks carrying their heavy loads to 
warehouses and steamers. That part of the port which 



— 32 — 



lies between the landing place and the main custom house 
contains mostly smaller shops, ship chandlers and steam- 
ship-line offices, sailors' taverns and low dives of all sorts, 
and is said to be a dangerous place at night-time. 

The other part of the quay, beginning at the Hotel Huck 
and extending in an opposite direction would bear almost 
an European character, were it not for the Oriental archi- 
tecture of some of the houses and the semi-tropical vege- 
tation. Here are modern hotels, residences and cafes and 
a number of clubs, . among which the Sporting Club, the 
Cercle Oriental, the Club Hellenique, the New Club and 
the Cercle Europeen are the foremost. In one of the 
cafes here I passed many a leisure hour sipping a glass of 
sherbet or a cup of Turkish coffee. Seated under the 
oleander trees in front of the cafe I also tried, like the 
natives, to smoke a Nargileh, the use of which with the 
necessary tobacco may be had from the waiters for a small 
fee. But in spite of my efforts to learn, I could find no 
pleasure in this method of smoking, which really necessi- 
tates a pair of leather lungs, and I had to content myself 
with cigarettes, which may be had here in excellent quality. 

One of these cafes contains a telephone and the pro- 
prietor tells in connection therewith the following story 
of which, if untrue, one may say at leaest: "Si non e 
vero e bene trovato." 

Shortly after the instrument had been installed, a Tur- 
kish hammal brought a verbal message to the proprietor 
with the request for an immediate answer. To give such 
it was necessary to consult another person by telephone 
and the messenger was ordered to wait until the man 
could be spoken to. While the telephonic conversation was 
carried on, the hammal's eyes came near bulging out of 
their sockets and the proprietor noticed, expressed in his 
face, the alternate feelings of astonishment and terror. 



— 33 — 



The conversation finished, the proprietor turned to the 
waiting messenger : "Mr. N. . . . says that he cannot pro- 
cure the promised goods. Tell this to your master !" With 
eyes still wide open the hammal answered : "All right, 
master ! I will do so ;" and after a pause : "Excuse me, 
master, it is said that the Franks are on good terms with 
the devil, but, by the beard of the Prophet, you cannot 
make me believe that fat Mr. N . . . . is in that little box 
there." 

The main streets of Smyrna next to the quay are the 
Rue Franque and the Rue Parallele, both of which run in 
the same direction. In these two streets, especially in the 
former, are situated the largest shops, which for Oriental 
conditions may certainly be called elegant. They are 
modern in every way and have prettily arranged show 
windows in which French and English goods predominate. 
Among them I noticed only one large shop after the pat- 
tern of American department stores. The main streets 
are frequently connected with each other by passages con- 
taining smaller stores and cafes. The pavement of the 
Rue Franque, and the Rue Parallele may be said to be 
excellent according to Turkish standards, and it is cer- 
tainly far better than that of the grand Rue de Pera of 
Constantinople. In other parts Smyrna is badly paved, 
and nearly all streets lack sidewalks. Lately the muni- 
cipality has attempted some improvements in this direc- 
tion, and it is said that they intend to repave all streets in 
the course of time. The need of better pavements is a 
pressing one, but with the characteristic slowness of Tur- 
kish authorities, it will probably take a long time before 
this is achieved. 

The rug stores of Smyrna are naturally the main attrac- 
tion for the stranger and there are a considerable number 
of them in the Frank quarters as well as in the native 



- 34 - 



bazaar. The stranger who visits these with the intention 
of making a purchase will find, however, to his great dis- 
appointment, that the prices demanded are such that, 
freight and duty taken into consideration, he may as well 
abandon his object, as he could buy the same goods in 
every large store of New York or Chicago at lower prices. 
How far the latter were affected by the circumstance that 
at the time of my sojourn, two representatives of Ameri- 
can houses were buying goods in Smyrna, I am unable 
to say. 

To the European or American the native bazaar cer- 
tainly offers more interest than the modern business 
streets. Although it cannot compare with the great ba- 
zaar of Stamboul, the exceedingly rich selection of Orien- 
tal goods must satisfy the most critical visitor. The char- 
acter of the thousand and one small stores forming the 
bazaar is the same as in Constantinople, and the merchants 
show the same greed and pertinacity. The main staples 
which attract the eye are arms and embroideries, but it is 
necessary to exert a good deal of caution in purchasing, 
since many of the beautiful old yatagans, flint-lock pistols 
and handjars, as well as some of the prettiest Oriental 
textile goods are "made in Germany" even if they do not 
bear that famous trade mark. Furs are also exhibited in 
great variety and at low prices, and the dried and candied 
fruits, a specialty of Smyrna, would tempt the most fas- 
tidious. 

Another interesting sight of Smyrna is the caravan 
bridge which can be reached in half an hour from the 
quay. This bridge forms the only approach to the city 
for camel caravans from the interior, and one has to stop 
there only a short time to see a long line of heavily-laden 
animals passing. First comes the leader, seated on a small 
donkey. He is followed by the camels in groups of five or 



- 35 - 



six. The animals march in single file and are connected 
with each other by long ropes. Each group is accom- 
panied by a driver. The bridge spans the historical 
streamlet Meles in a bold arch of great stone blocks, and 
is a charming object for the painter with its mellow hues, 
passing camels, drivers, and its background of a Turkish 
cemetery shaded by magnificent cypresses. With several 
cafes in the neighborhood, it is no wonder that the cara- 



van bridge is a much favored suburban locality where the 
lower class of the inhabitants of the city congregate 
largely, especially on Friday, the Mohammedan Sabbath. 

There are no mementos of the oldest period of Smyrna 
left in the city proper. The few ruins of that time are 
scattered on Mont Pagus, and consist of parts of an Hel- 
lenic wall which may be distinguished among the foun- 
dations of the Genoese castle which crowns its summit, 
and in a few unimportant remains of a temple of Jupiter 





The Quai in Smyrna 



— 36 — 



and of a theater or stadion on the same hill. Everything 
else has disappeared, but it is easy to guess where to, if 
one observes closely the houses in the upper parts of the 
city, and the tombs in the Turkish cemetery which are 
largely built of antique material. One may notice fre- 
quently in the walls of dilapidated buildings beautiful 
capitals of Ionian or Corinthian columns, large stone 
slabs with half-obliterated inscriptions, mutilated bas- 
reliefs and occasionally even a fairly well-preserved bust. 

An excursion to the Genoese ruins on Mont Pagus is 
well worth making, even for those to whom historical 
reminiscences and antique monuments are of little inter- 
est. The summit is reached on foot in less than one hour, 
but since the ascent by the rocky, zigzag road is not one 
of the most pleasant, the guides recommend the use of 
horses or donkeys. I was taught by experience that for 
similar excursions donkeys are preferable since they have 
a surer foot than horses and one does well to trust himself 
passively to the animal and its driver. It is advisable, 
however, especially on the descent, not to keep the feet 
in the stirrups, as some of the animals are weak in the 
front legs and stumble easily. If, in such a case, the 
rider is caught with his feet in the stirrups, he is invari- 
ably thrown headlong over the head of the donkey, while 
otherwise with a little agility and by riding like the Turks 
and Arabs, with legs stretched far forward, he alights on 
his feet. The fear of appearing ridiculous prevents many 
a tourist from following this advice, which is nearly al- 
ways given by the escorting driver or guide, but I con- 
sider it a better plan to appear ridiciulous than to risk 
your bones during a. journey in far-off lands. A young 
man with whom I made an excursion to Ephesus also 
came to this conclusion, but not before he had received 
a skinned nose and cheek, as well as a sprained wrist. 



— 37 — 



The road to the summit of Mont Pagus offers in several 
places a fine outlook upon the bay and a part of the city, 
but only after reaching the top is the view a really^magnifi- 
cent one. The old fortifications are entered by a large, 
much dilapidated gate. Not far from this are the ruins of 
an old Mosque which is said to stand on the same place 
where the first Christian church of Smyrna was erected. 
The numerous cisterns and subterranean ways and vaults 
which one sees everywhere are said to have been formerly 
connected with exits at the foot of the hill, of which con- 
nections, however, there are no traces left to-day. Some- 
what higher on the hill are the remains of a second wall 
that surround the ruins of the real stronghold erected by 
trie Genoese on the site of the old Acropolis of Smyrna. 
Of the latter there are, as mentioned before, only parts of 
the original foundation-wall visible, which even to-day 
may be easily distinguished by the regularity of its con- 
struction and the beauty of its blocks from the roughly 
hewn and cemented Genoese stones. The high towers of 
the castle are in bad condition, but they may still be 
mounted by means of much dilapidated stairs in the 
interior. 

From one of these towers one may have a beautiful pan- 
oramic view. I left my guide with the donkeys farther 
down and mounted the tower alone in order to enjoy the 
view without being annoyed by the usual senseless chatter 
of the professional guide. There at my feet, beginning at 
the lower slope of the hill, lay the city with its white 
houses and flat roofs, its cupolas and slender minarets. 
Farther on, the blue Gulf with its numerous steamers and 
white sails, mirrored the sky as far as the promontory of 
Kara Burnu. To the northeast stretched the plains of 
Bournabat and Hadjilar, and in the opposite direction the 
fertile valley which is dominated by the mountain chain 



— 38 - 



of the "Two Brothers." Between them lay picturesquely 
and surrounded by luxuriant vegetation, the villages of 
Boudjah and Sedi-Keui. At the foot of the hill, in a dif- 
ferent direction from the city, the Meles wound its narrow 
thread of water through an imposing ravine towards a 
mighty aqueduct in the distance, while somewhat nearer, 
another aqueduct was partly hidden by intervening hills. 
This panorama was so charming that I spent considerably 
over an hour on the top of the tower before descending 
again. The guide was just about to look for me when I 
emerged from the tower. Our return to the city was 
made by another direction, passing the interesting but 
squalid Jewish quarters. 

The immediate environs of Smyrna are in reality all 
that would justify a longer stay in the city, for two or 
three days are more than sufficient to see everything 
Smyrna itself offers. Although a few months before two 
young strangers had been captured by bandits during a 
bicycle excursion in the immediate vicinity of the city and 
were only liberated on payment of a considerable ransom, 
I did not allow my well-meaning host, Mr. Fragiacomo, 
to scare me out of excursions into the country, but visited 
nearly all points worth while seeing, in the company of a 
good guide. The only precautionary measure which I 
used was to take along a revolver which I always carry 
in my baggage, but hardly ever on my person. On several 
of these excursions I accepted the company of a young 
Austrian commercial traveler whose acquaintance I had 
made at the table d'hote in the hotel. He asked to join 
me, as he naively confessed, because it was more pleasant 
to go sightseeing with another person and because thereby, 
— and this was the main object, — the expenses per capita 
were cut in two. 

"You see," he said to me, "whether you are alone in 



— 39 — 



your carriage or whether 1 go along, and whether your 
guide tells his yarns exclusively to you or to us both, can 
be all the same to you, especially if I pay half of the 
expenses." 

I had to acknowledge the incontestable logic of this ar- 
gument, and although the strictly commercial standpoint 




Genoese Ruin on Mont Pagus, Smyrna. 



from which he viewed and discussed everything, did not 
harmonize with my ideas, I accepted his offer to accom- 
pany me whenever his duties would allow him to do so. 

One of our first excursions into the country was made 
to the Point des Moulins and from there to Bournabat. 
This place is situated approximately on the site of the 



— 40 — 



original Smyrna, and is to-day the favorite summer resi- 
dence of the European population. Not far from Bourna- 
bat are the ruins of ancient Sipylum and on a mountain 
slope nearby is shown the so-called tomb of the legendary 
King Tantalus, the situation of which corresponds fairly 
well with a description given by Pausanias. It has a diam- 
eter of about one hundred feet, and its circular base of 
roughly hewn stone is fairly well preserved. According 
to an ancient description, it was built in conical shape and 
its height is said to have exceeded eighty feet. Somewhat 
higher on the mountain slope is a small pond which the 
French scientist Texier takes to be the ancient Lake Saloe 
mentioned by Strabo and Plinius. Other ruins in the 
neighborhood, though numerous, are not of great interest. 

Favorite points of excursion are also Cordelio, Sedi- 
Keui, Narli-Keui, noted for its fine pomegranates, and 
Bournabachi with numerous cold springs. The latter is 
especially favored by the better classes who visit the place 
during the season in large numbers. 

Of extraordinary archaeological interest is Nimfi, the 
ancient Nymphseum, a village at the entrance of which are 
found the ruins of a Byzantine palace. At the time of the 
Byzantine rulers, Nimfi was a favorite resort, but it is not 
the ruins of that period which are of greatest interest. 
Within two or three miles from the village, one reaches 
a picturesque narrow ravine luxuriantly grown with 
bushes and trees, called the Kara-bel defile, through which 
runs a narrow but swift rivulet. On one of the precip- 
itous rocky walls of this ravine, half hidden by shrubbery, 
one may perceive at a height of 130 to 150 feet, a gigantic 
bas-relief sculpture, the so-called monument of Sesostris. 
It can be reached only in a roundabout way and not with- 
out the help of a guide, as the approaches are hidden by 
dense underbrush. This sculpture is hewn out in a shal- 



•v 



— 41 — 

low artificial niche of the rock, and represents a royal 
Egyptian warrior, evidently Sesostris himself. The figure 
stands about ten feet high, its profile turned to the east. 
At about the elevation of the head a hieroglyphical inscrip- 
tion is plainly discernible. The right hand of the King 
holds a bow, the left a spear. This monument corresponds 
exactly with the description given by Herodotus of such a 
monument of Sesostris in this locality with the only differ- 
ence that Herodotus puts the spear into the right hand and 
the bow in the left, instead of vice versa. This mistake, 
however, is easily explained by the peculiar position of the 
figure. The fact that the cartouche (royal hieroglyphic 
seal) of Rameses appears in the inscription, makes it prob- 
able that this sculpture is identical with that mentioned by 
Herodotus. Be this as it may, it is undoubtedly a monu- 
ment of great antiquity, having been pronounced by good 
archaeologists as dating from about the fifteenth century 
B. C. 

Magnesia and Pergamon, both of which are easily 
reached by the Cassaba railway line, I omitted to visit, 
preferring to gain more time for an excursion to the im- 
portant ruins of Ephesus, which are historically more in- 
teresting and of greater beauty and extent. 



III. 



Excursion to Ephesus. — Impressions. — Gypsy Types 
in Turbali. — Turkish Railway Conditions. — The 

Ruins. — The Decline and Fall of Mr. E — 

The Bandits. — Our Candid Host. — Lament of, Mr. 
E — The Shrewd Conductor. 

While it formerly took at least two or three days from 
Smyrna, and sometimes more, to visit the ruins of Ephe- 
sus, this excursion, as we were assured, can be made at 
present in one day. During the tourists' season a regular 
train of the "Compagnie du chemin de fer Ottoman" 
leaves Smyrna daily at eight o'clock in the morning, arriv- 
ing about noon at the small station near the ruins, and as 
another train returns to the city at four o'clock p. m., one 
has four hours' time for a visit to Ephesus. Whether this 
is really so or not, I cannot state, as my sojourn in Smyrna 
fell outside the season. Our experience at least was a dif- 
ferent one, and it throws such a peculiar light on the rail- 
way conditions in Asia Minor, that my narrative will be 
received by many with doubt. Nevertheless, what I relate 
in the following lines are facts. 

One morning I boarded the train to Ephesus accom- 
panied by Mr. E. . . ., the Austrian commercial traveler 
mentioned before, and by our guide, who assured us that 
we could be back in Smyrna the same evening. A clear 
sky promised a beautiful day, and I anticipated great 
pleasure from the archaeological treat awaiting me. The 
train moved with aggravating slowness, making about 
eight or ten miles per hour, through the fertile plain of 
Smyrna, after passing which, it reached the chain of hills 



— 43 - 



through which the railroad leads towards Ephesus. Out- 
side of the Scotch conductor, the engineer and ourselves, 
there was no European on the train. The first-class com- 
partment in which we sat showed traces of former ele- 
gance, but the plush upholstery, upon which the dust lay 
thick, was badly worn. The carriages of the second and 




Gypsy Types in Turbali. 



third class were still dirtier and filled with native mer- 
chants and peasants. 

The small stations at which we stopped offered little of 
interest, but the landscape of barren hills interrupted by 
small patches of pasture and cultivated fields, had a pecu- 
liar charm. One could, so to speak, notice its venerable 



— 44 — 



age. It is peculiar, but I have received this impression 
also from the landscapes of Greece and Upper Egypt, 
while similar scenes in Europe and America appear to me, 
in comparison with these, vastly different, much newer, 
somewhat as a modern painting differs from an old mas- 
ter. If one would ask me, however, about the real differ- 
ences and the real causes of the different impression, I 
should be embarrassed for an answer. It is something in- 
explainable, for I received this impression also in the en- 
tire absence of ruins or other monuments of antiquity. 

The nearer we came to our destination, the slower the 
train seemed to move. The stops at the stations were 
hardly ever less than ten minutes, but frequently more. 
Once or twice the train also halted in the open fields. On 
the station platform of Turbali, where a longer stop was 
made, figs, pomegranates and oranges were offered by 
venders. We noticed here some highly interesting types 
of gypsy women who were running alongside the train 
with water pitchers and fruit baskets. Their peculiar cos- 
tume attracted our special attention. It consisted of long 
wide trousers, made of striped woolen goods, which 
seemed to form one piece with the waist-garment. Around 
the middle of the body a gayly-colored scarf was wound. 
The head, with the exception of the face, was tightly 
wrapped in a white cloth held in place by a black woolen 
band around the forehead. On seeing these women, I left 
my compartment for the purpose of securing a snap-shot 
if possible. The small black case, however, seemed not 
to be unknown them, for they looked at it suspiciously and 
escaped before I got near enough to execute my purpose. 
I should never have succeeded in getting the desired snap- 
shot, had I not, with the help of the guide, taken recourse 
to the almighty baksheesh. In the background of the pic- 



— 45 — 



ture unfortunately Mr. E , who had approached with- 
out my noticing him in the focus, also appears. 

About 12 130 p. m. we at last reached Ephesus, or rather 
the small station nearby. It had taken us four hours and 
a half to make a run of some forty miles. During the last 
hour the sky had become dark and threatening, and as we 
stepped off the train heavy black clouds were sailing over 
the plain of Ephesus and the surrounding hills. Upon an 
inquiry by our guide, we were told to our great astonish- 
ment, that the only train returning to Smyrna on the same 
day was due at one o'clock, i. e., in about half an hour. 
Since we had not come to Ephesus for the pleasure of the 
ride, and on the other hand did not intend to stay over 
night, we found ourselves in a rather unpleasant dilemma. 
Mr. E . . . . , who did not care much for the sight of ruins 
or "rubbish," as he called them, suggested that we avail 
ourselves of the only opportunity and return by the next 
train to Smyrna. I objected strenuously against the sug- 
gestion, as I wished under all circumstances to attain the 
purpose for which I had made the journey. One doesn't 
come every day to Ephesus ! My counter-suggestion was 
to secure any kind of quarters for the night, and to stay 
over, rather than to return without having attained our 

object. But Mr. E had a business appointment with 

an important customer the following morning and would 
not listen to this plan. 

While I still tried to persuade him, our guide returned. 
He had in the interval gone into the small station building 
to interview the official who held the office of station mas- 
ter, telegraph operator, etc. His smiling face indicated 
good news. The official had told him that a freight train 
was due at about two o'clock which we could get permis- 
sion to use for our return to Smyrna. This was improv- 
ing conditions somewhat, but even the additional hour 



- 46 - 



would hardly have allowed us time to hire the necessary 
horses or donkeys and to reach the ruins, which are at a 
distance of about half an hour's ride from' the station. A 
closer visit of Ephesus seemed, therefore, to be excluded. 

Once more the almighty baksheesh became our salva- 
tion. The guide went for another interview with the 
official, and soon after brought us the glad tidings that the 
freight train would be held for our convenience at the 
station until four o'clock, and if necessary longer. 

"The thing will cost ten shillings," he whispered to us 
in an impressive tone. "And it is certainly worth that 
much," added Mr. E 

While the guide was searching for the necessary ani- 
mals, we repaired into the small tavern near the station. 
This is kept by a well-fed Greek and is situated in the 
shadow of an ancient Roman aqueduct, the fairly pre- 
served arches of which offer protection to a few dilapi- 
dated hovels. The tavern in reality is not an inn in the 
true sense of the word. It is the residence of the family, 
and we were conducted by the host into a sort of sitting- 
room, which at the same time serves as reception-hall for 
strangers. We ordered refreshments, but outside of goat 
cheese, bread, some fruit and wine, nothing was to be had. 
Making the best of this bill of fare, we ate hurriedly, and 
after our guide, who had meanwhile returned with three 
decrepit nags, had partaken of our frugal meal, we 
mounted our steeds. The sky had steadily become more 
cloudy, and the host prognosticated a severe thunder- 
storm. There was no doubt that a heavy rain was threat- 
ening, for large drops began already to fall. Nevertheless 

we started, although Mr. E was strongly inclined to 

withdraw from the excursion and await our return in the 
tavern. The settling of our bill was postponed until that 
time. 



- 47 - 



Having set our nags in motion, it did not take us long 
to find out that the prospective ride would not be counted 
with our most pleasant reminiscences of travel. The sad- 
dles were hard and bore the traces of long years of service. 
The leather parts were brittle and mended in many places. 
The animals themselves looked as if they were in danger 




Roman Aqueduct near Ephesus 

of breaking down any moment. We had arrived at a 
point about ten minutes distant from the ruins when the 
storm broke in all its fury. The rain fell in torrents, 
blinding sheets of lightning zigzagged on the horizon, and 
the soft road was changed into a sea of mud before we 
reached the first heap of ruins. By that time we were wet 



— 48 — 



to the skin, but being compelled to make the best use of 
our time, we did not seek any protection from the rain and 
followed the lead of our cicerone. 

Under the circumstances it was not possible to explore 
the ruins thoroughly, and we had to satisfy ourselves with 
viewing the main objects of interest, which, as it was, 
occupied our time for more than two hours. The territory 
over which the ruins are scattered is very large, but ex- 
cepting a few fairly well preserved structures, Ephesus 
represents to-day hardly more than a gigantic heap of deb- 
ris through which it is difficult to advance. 

In ancient times, Ephesus was one of the most important 
cities of Ionia and although several times destroyed, it 
was always rebuilt on the same or an adjoining site. This 
explains the great extent of the field of ruins. The oldest 
part of the city was situated on the slope of a hill called 
"Prion" which rises in the center of the ruins. The most 
brilliant epoch Ephesus witnessed was during the reign of 
Lysimachus, who embellished the city greatly and fortified 
it with strong walls. But long before that time the city 
was renowned for its wealth and the magnificence of its 
buildings. Among the latter, it was especially the Temple 
of Diana, counted among the seven wonders of the world, 
which made the name of Ephesus one of the best known 
in ancient history. There is no trace left now of this 
grand temple which, as is well known, was burned down 
by Herostratus the same night in which Alexander the 
Great was born. Our guide pointed out to us some broken 
columns lying prone in the mud as the remains of the 
Sanctuary of Diana, but the fact is that scientific investi- 
gations have not been able as yet to locate definitely the 
site of this great monument. On the other hand, the walls 
of Lysimachus may easily be traced to a length of about 
1,500 yards. These walls are flanked at certain intervals 



— 49 — 



by the crumbling remains of towers built alternately of 
square and irregular stone blocks. A road lined by nu- 
merous tombstones, most of them utterly destroyed, is 
hewn in the rock and follows the direction of the wall. 
From a point on this road one may perceive the so-called 
prison of St. Paul, who first preached Christianity in 
Ephesus. 




Ruins of an Antique Theatre in Ephesus. 

The fairly well preserved remains of a theater hewn into 
the slope of the rock are situated on the hill mentioned, 
and in the immediate vicinity of it are the ruins of the 
Stadion. The latter leans with its left wing on the hill, 
while the right one is supported by a gigantic sub-struc- 
ture of stone. The interior of neither theater nor Stadion 



- 50 — 



offers anything remarkable, while of the erstwhile mag- 
nificent baths nothing but the great demolished vaults are 
to be seen. A large market-place has lately been exca- 
vated, but consists only of a mass of broken shafts and 
blocks of marble. 

While we were following our guide through the laby- 
rinth of fragments and fallen columns, the accident oc- 
curred to which I have referred in the preceding chapter 
and which served to disgust Air. E. . . . thoroughly with 
our excursion. The unceasing rainfall had made the 
rocky ground and the weed-grown debris slippery, in- 
creasing the difficulties of the animals in making headway. 
Ever since we had reached the ruins, the guide and I 
were riding native fashion without stirrups, having thrown 
them over the necks of our horses. Mr. E. . . . declined to 
follow our example and kept his feet, in spite of the guide's 
warning, in the stirrups, although his animal had already 
slipped several times. The decline, however, was swiftly 
followed by the fall. We were riding slowly and care- 
fully down hill from the Stadion, when his horse, climb- 
ing over an obstacle, slipped again with the front legs and, 
falling on its knees, threw the rider from the saddle. Mr. 
E . . . . described a graceful curve in the air over the head 
of the animal and landed on a grassy spot, where he lay 
for a moment without motion. Before the guide and I 
could dismount and hurry to his aid, Mr. E.... had 
raised himself from the ground on his hands and knees. 
One side of his face was covered with dirt and blood, and 
his left wrist was badly wrenched. Otherwise he had 
not been hurt seriously. 

"Serves me right," he said, while we tried to cleanse his 
face as well as possible. "Why do I need to climb around 
among old stone-heaps and to look at old rubbish ? Had 
I remained in Smyrna, I might have sold a bill of goods." 



- 51 - 



We tried to console him, but after drawing from his 
pocket a small mirror and carefully contemplating his 
skinned nose and cheek, he remarked in a bitter tone, 
"This is what I get for visiting Ephesus. Was it neces- 
sary for me to come here ? What will my Irma say when 
I return to Vienna with such a souvenir ?" 

By this time we had seen about everything worth see- 
ing, and as the time was pressing, we started on our way 
back. While roaming about among the ruins, we had 
observed from time to time several suspicious figures 
wrapped in blankets who seemed to follow us, keeping as 
much as possible out of sight between the heaps of debris. 
I must confess that, remembering the recent kidnaping of 
two tourists by bandits in the vicinity of Smyrna, a fact 
mentioned before, we felt somewhat alarmed and Mr. 
E. . . . as well as myself were glad to have taken along 
our revolvers. The imaginary bandits, however, proved 
to be quite innocent goat-herds, who on our return to the 
station ran ahead of us watching their first opportunity to 
hold us up — for a few baksheesh piastres. They had cov- 
ered their heads with blankets only to protect themselves 
against the rain. 

The weather was now clearing up somewhat, patches of 
blue sky showing between the ragged clouds, and for mo- 
ments even a ray of sunshine broke through the gray 
masses. I improved these bright moments by taking a 
few snap-shots of the ruins and of an old Genoese castle 
on top of a hill which we passed on the way back to the 
inn. 

It was nearly four o'clock when we again entered the 
house of our Greek host wet as poodles. A bright fire 
was burning on the open hearth. We hurriedly took off 
as much of our clothing as decency allowed, and hanging 
them up to dry before the blaze, seated ourselves as near 



— 52 — 



as possible to the fire. While our clothes were steaming 
and fuming, the host presented his bill, which had the 
effect of making us fume, too. It amounted to fourteen 
francs for a little cheese, fruit, bread and sour wine. We 
remonstrated energetically against this outrageous charge 
without, however, being able to secure a reduction. To 
Mr. E . . . . 's question whether we were charged the regu- 
lar prices, our host replied with great equanimity and 
blandness that we were net ; but since tourists at the time 
were rare in Ephesus, he must needs make up for the lack 
of patrons whenever the opportunity presented itself. We 
were quite dumbfounded by this brutal frankness, but 
there was nothing to be done but pay. After we had set- 
tled, our Greek friend presented his register with the re- 
quest that we inscribe our names, and, if we saw fit, a 
small recommendation of his inn. 

Mr. E. . . . signed his name in bold characters, and I 
followed with mine, above which I wrote the following 
lines in German: 

"Kommst Fremder Du nach Ephesus, 

So kehre nicht hier ein, 
Denn ist der Wirth zu Dir auch suess, 

Er stellt Dir doch ein Bein." 

The innkeeper, who did not understand German, begged 

me to interpret this verse to him. I did it as follows : 

"Oh, stranger, when in Ephesus, 
Do patronize this inn, 
The host is always honest here, 
His heart is free of sin." 

In reality, however, my German verse would read in 

translation somewhat like this : 

"Oh, stranger, when in Ephesus, 
On an exploring tour. 
Don't patronize this little inn, 
For you'll be cheated sure." 



— 53 — 



I should like to see the fat Greek's face when an oblig- 
ing tourist some time in the future gives him the correct 
translation. 

Our clothes were still wet and we ourselves were steam- 
ing near the blazing fire, when the station master entered 
with the request to hurry, as the train had waited consid- 




Ruins of a Market Place in Ephesus. 

erably more than two hours, and he could not very well 
retain it much longer. We explained the circumstances 
to him, and the dense vapor arising from our clothes 
offered convincing proof that we had to wait a little 
longer. We ordered another bottle of wine and he ac- 
cepted our invitation to help us empty it. While engaged 



— 54 — 



in this task, he informed us that an empty passenger car 
of the third class was attached to the freight train which 
was to bring us back to Smyrna, and that this would be 
put at our exclusive disposal. But he also pointed out the 
possibility of the train staying over night at some station 
on the way. This outlook, even though remote, was net 
very pleasing, and Mr. E . . . . made a long face as he con- 
sidered the possibility of missing his business appointment 
on the following day and perhaps losing thereby the sale 
of a bill of goods. I, too, although not confronted by such 
a danger, contemplated with horror the prospect of a night 
on the hard and dirty benches of a third class compart- 
ment of the "Compagnie du chemin de fer Ottoman." The 
mere thought of the vermin with which these cars are in- 
fested, was sufficient to cause an unpleasant itching. Still 
the outlook was better than to be exposed to the dangers 
of a ride in an open freight car for five or six hours in 
wet clothes. 

In about half an hour the clothes hanging near the fire 
had so far dried that we could put them on again, but 
those on our bodies were still in a condition of steaming 
dampness. The official had again become impatient and 
we now hurried to the train accompanied by a crowd of 
youthful baksheesh hunters. For the use of the three nags 
we had to pay fifteen francs, about half their value. 

Making ourselves as comfortable as possible on the 
benches of our compartment we prepared with patience 
for the tedious trip. Coming to Ephesus in the morning 
we had had at least the pastime of contemplating an ever- 
changing landscape, and the thought of the prospective 
visit to the famous ruins had shortened the time very 
agreeably. But now darkness was fast approaching, and 
the smoky lamp on the ceiling spread hardly light enough 
for us to see each other. Through the interstices of the 



— 55 - 



compartment doors and the cracks of the rattling win- 
dows, a cold draft entered which, considering our damp 
clothing, was sure to be followed by disagreeable conse- 
quences. We soon began to shiver and under these condi- 
tions, even my archaeological enthusiasm suffered a strong 
reaction. Having sat for a long while without speaking, 
Mr. E. . . . suddenly asked : 




Old Genoese Castle near Ephesus. 

"Well, do you really believe that it was worth while to 
visit the dirty rubbish heaps?" 

"Under the prevailing circumstances, no!" I replied, 
somewhat crestfallen. "I only regret that my plans do 
not allow me to repeat this excursion in more favorable 
weather and with more time at my disposal." 



— 56 — 



"Well, I don't believe that a team of oxen could drag 

me again to Ephesus," said Air. E "Ephesus, fine 

place that ! Just look at my nose. What will my Irma 

say?" 

And he again brought out his small pocket mirror ir. 
order that he might contemplate with the help of a burning 
match the skinned patches of his face. 

"An empire, even a republic for a court plaster," he re- 
marked wittily, but with a painful smile. "Haven't you 
any ?" And as I regretfully answered in the negative, he 
added, "Just my luck ; it seems as if the sword of Colum- 
bus was ever hanging over me." 

"Console yourself, my dear Mr. E. . . .," I replied pleas- 
antly, "perhaps you will find some day the egg of Damok- 
les and then your luck will change." 

About two hours had passed drearily when a long stop 
induced us to send out the guide to ascertain the cause. 
He returned soon with the Turkish conductor and the 
information that a part of the locomotive was out of or- 
der, and that there was every prospect of spending the 
night at this little station. 

So the dreaded event had really occurred. Mr. E. . . . 
was raging about in the small compartment, cursing the 
old Greeks, the modern Turks, and probably, inwardly, 
me too. My patience was also exhausted and an ener- 
getic curse escaped my lips. But suddenly I bethought 
myself of something better than swearing. Raging and 
cursing have no effect whatever on a phlegmatic Oriental. 
I called the guide aside and slipping a ten franc piece into 
his hand, while I pointed over my shoulder to the con- 
ductor, I said to him : 

. "You understand me. It is seven o'clock now ; if we 
are in Smyrna by nine, there will be five francs added." 



— 57 — 



Fifteen minutes later the train was moving again and 
shortly after nine o'clock we arrived at our destination. 

The consequences of this excursion for me were a severe 
catarrh and a cough which did not leave me for several 

weeks, while Mr. E , although he was able to keep his 

business appointment on the following day, had to go to 
bed immediately after. When I left for Samos on the 
second day following our excursion, he was still confined 
to his room. But when I returned from there to take the 
steamship for Piraeus, he was quite well again. He re- 
ceived me with the words : "Say, after all it was a good 
thing that we returned the same day from that cursed 
Ephesus. One of my strongest competitors was here 
since, but I had already sold my customer a bill of 1 500 
francs." 



IV. 



Arrival in Vathy— More about Musurus Bey.— 
Modern Samos. — Samian Fleas. — Ruins of Samos. 
— An American Party on the "Jupiter/' — Casto- 

RIA AND POLUXENA. APPROACH TO PlRAEUS. ENTRY 

into Athens with Obstacles. 

The trip from Smyrna to Samos lasts only a few hours 
and sailboats or small coast steamers which ply between 
the first named city and the island may be used for the 
excursion. Samos, however, has sufficient commercial 
importance for the larger Levant steamers of the Austrian 
Lloyd, the Compagnie des Messageries Maritimes and 
other lines to touch regularly at Vathy, its capital and 
principal seaport. Considering the small area of the 
island, which is less than 300 square miles, it is natural 
that its industrial and commercial life concentrate in this 
city which is inhabited by more than one-tenth of the 
islanders, numbering about 55,000 in all. The harbor of 
Vathy is very picturesque, but lacks the business activity 
of other ports in the Orient. The city has 6,000 inhab- 
itants and consists of two parts, Vathy ano, the upper, 
and Vathy kato, the lower town. The latter part is, on 
account of its proximity to the harbor, the center of busi- 
ness, and a stroll through the narrow streets might create 
the impression of being in a larger and more populous 
town. 

As soon as the steamer touches the landing-place, and 
the passengers disembark, they are surrounded immedi- 
ately by a crowd of youthful confectionery, fruit and cig- 
arette venders offering with great importunity their tempt- 



— 59 — 



ing goods. The small disciples of Mercury are doing a 
good business, especially in cigarettes, which are manu- 
factured in Vathy of an excellent quality, and a stranger 
rarely touches the island without purchasing a good sup- 
ply of them. This industry is the most important of the 
island, but the output is limited and the cigarettes are 




Harbor of Vathy, Samos. 



mainly sold to special dealers who in turn sell them to 
the European courts, the nobility and the aristocratic 
clubs. 

On the steamer I had made the acquaintance of a 
French-speaking young Greek, Mr. Papadopoulus, who 



— 60 — 



interested himself very kindly in me during my short 
stay in Samos. He conducted me right from the landing- 
place to one of the two larger cafes situated nearby, and 
on his recommendation the proprietor offered me the hos- 
pitality of his home. Air. Papadopoulus assured me I 
would have more comfortable quarters there than in any 
one of the several small hotels of the city, the cleanliness 
of which leaves much to be desired. 

Upon my inquiry for the Prince, I was informed that he 
was on a short trip to the interior. Since it has been my 
experience that princes and other high personages are 
always more amiable and condescending to strangers while 
traveling than at home, where a greater degree of dignity 
has to be observed, I at once decided to make the best use 
of my short allotted time by not availing myself of the 
invitation of Muslims Bey in awaiting his return. 

Of Vathy not much can be said. There is at present 
a new parliament building in course of construction which 
is to cost 250,000 francs, and close by ground has been 
broken for a new Greek-orthodox church, which will 
probably necessitate about the same outlay. These two 
new buildings illustrate well the characteristic of the 
Samians, whose love of liberty and devotion to the ortho- 
dox church are well known. A prominent feature of the 
town which distinguishes it favorably from other Levan- 
tine cities is the cleanliness of its streets. This is, how- 
ever, no criterion by which to judge the interior of the 
houses, as the reader will see in the course of this chapter. 

In the afternoon I hired a guide and two horses, and 
after riding through the principal streets we mounted to 
the old monastery Zoodoki Pighi, situated near the city. 
It was, however, near sundown when we arrived on the 
summit of the hill on which the monastery is built, and I 
had only a chance to enjoy the magnificent view which 



— 61 — 



one may have from there over the Gulf of Ephesus. On 
my return to V athy the shadows of the night were already 
falling and I spent the evening in the cafe, where I again 
met Mr. Papadopoulus. In company of this gentleman 
and two of his friends, Vathy merchants, I learned many 
interesting things about Samos, its government and its 
Prince. The latter seemed not to enjoy much popularity, 
and among other things it was hinted by the gentlemen 
that the near future would bring a change in Samian polit- 
ical affairs. It was indeed only a few months later that 
Musurus Bey was recalled to Constantinople and suc- 
ceeded by a new governor. But as his successor was also 
recalled after a short reign, it is not clear to what degree 
Musurus Bey or the Samians themselves were to blame 
for these unsteady political conditions. 

It should be mentioned that Samos, although a Turkish 
dependency, is ruled according to Greek laws and invari- 
ably by a Greek governor, whose appointment is a pre- 
rogative of the Sultan. This is undoubtedly the case be- 
cause the island is almost exclusively inhabited by Greeks 
who would not suffer the rule of a Mohammedan prince. 
The Samians are a restless little people who have given 
the Turks much trouble since the latter took possession of 
the island by conquest in 1553 A. D. Under Sultan Mah- 
mud (1827) they succeeded, through the intervention of 
France, England and Russia, in gaining a certain independ- 
ence, which has remained undisturbed ever since, and the 
main condition of which is the payment of a yearly tribute 
and the recognition of the suzerainty of the Sultan. The 
Prince of Samos governs with the assistance of a congress 
numbering thirty-eight members which are elected by the 
people. Out of this number the prince chooses four min- 
isters who bear the title of senators. As representative of 
the Padisha he disposes also over a military power of 150 



- 62 - 



Turkish soldiers and a fleet which consists of an old 
guard ship anchored in the harbor. How times have 
changed ! Polycrates and Musurus ! Sic transit gloria 

mundif 

In late years Samos has made a fair advance in civiliza- 
tion and the commerce in natural products, consisting 
mainly of wine, olives and figs, has become quite impor- 
tant. The roads into the interior of the island are passably 
good, and the various villages are connected with the cap- 
ital by telephone. 

I wonder what Mr. Papadopoulus' idea of cleanliness 
is ? When I retired to my room towards midnight I was 
pleased to find a comfortable bed covered with fresh linen 
and surrounded with mosquito netting, as is the general 
custom throughout the Orient, and I congratulated myself 
on my good luck. But, oh ! what a disappointment lay 
in store for me ! I had hardly stretched myself comfort- 
ably on this inviting couch when I was compelled to jump 
out of bed in order to escape the attack of numerous in- 
sects which were thirsting for my blood. By the light of 
a candle I discovered large numbers of small black bugs 
emerging; from all the joints and cracks of the bedstead 
which advanced rapidly in closed battle line over the white 
bed clothes. Being unable to cope with such enemies and 
not having the slightest desire to be devoured alive, I de- 
cided that caution was the better part of valor and spent 
the night on a chair in the corner farthest from the bed. 
The rising sun found me tired and almost worn out, but 
an ablution of cold water refreshed me wonderfully, and 
after an early breakfast of eggs, fruit and honey, I 
mounted the carriage which I had ordered the evening 
before for an excursion to the environs of Vathy. 

The driver followed the steep road in the direction of 
the village of Mitylini, situated about four miles from 



- 63 — 



Vathy. There is nothing worthy of attention in this large 
village, but the Valley of Mitylinous, in the immediate 
vicinity, is of charming beauty and well worth a visit. 
From the summit of Mont Rakivouno, which is only 
about 1,000 feet high and dominates the valley, a beautiful 
view may be had upon the sea and the slopes of Mont 




Samian Sailing Boat. 

Mykale. The drive from Mitylini to Chora, the old cap- 
ital of Samos, does not occupy more than one hour, and 
although there is nothing to see in Chora itself, I desired 
to be driven there for the purpose of visiting the ruins of 
the old city of Samos lying nearby. 

Samos must have been in the remote past an important 



— 64 — 



city, and the fairly well preserved town walls may still be 
traced for a distance of about five miles. As in Ephesus, 
this girdling wall is flanked at intervals by the remains 
of strong square towers. The Acropolis is even to-day a 
beautiful example of the art of old Helenic military forti- 
fication. Besides these better preserved ruins there are 
the remains of several temples, a large theater and a Ro- 
man aqueduct, which offer some interest. I was urged 
not to miss a visit to the slopes of Mont Kerki, several 
miles from Chora, which are said to be of superior scenic 
beauty. This would have occupied several hours and as 
I did not have any inclination to spend another night like 
the last one, we omitted this visit from our itinerary and 
hurried back to Vathy in order to catch the afternoon 
steamer for Smyrna. 

I met Mr. Papadopoulus and his friends in the cafe and 
had just time to take a hasty repast of baked fish and roast 
goat before the steamer weighed its anchor. My expenses 
in Samos, as compared to those in Ephesus, were small. 
The sojourn of twenty- four hours, including services of 
guide and carriage, did not exceed the sum of twenty-six 
francs. The excursion had been a beautiful one aside 
from the night attack of the Samian bugs, and although it 
was not my good fortune to meet Musurus Bey again, the 
pleasure of my visit to his island will ever remain vivid in 
my memory. 

On the following morning I engaged a cabin on the 
small Austrian Lloyd steamer "Jupiter," which was sched- 
uled to leave early next day and to arrive in about twenty- 
four hours in Piraeus, the port of Athens. The boat, how- 
ever, was to sail at such an early hour that I requested per- 
mission of the captain to embark the same evening. The 
custom house difficulties (in Turkey and all its posses- 
sions, an export duty is levied and the baggage of depart- 



— 65 — 



ing passengers is submitted to the same examination as 
that of new arrivals) were settled in the early afternoon 
with the help of the usual baksheesh, and I boarded the 
steamer early in the evening as the weather had become 
rainy and there was no inducement to remain ashore. 

The captain invited me to dine with him and we were 
still sitting in the salon sipping our cafe noir and smoking 
Austrian Trabuco cigars when a new party of travelers 
boarded the steamer and soon after appeared in the salon. 
A glance at this party proved to me that the newcomers 
were Americans. It consisted of six persons, five of whom 
belonged to the female sex. The sixth was a young fel- 
low of about sixteen with handsome, almost feminine, 
features who gave me. on superficial observation, the im- 
pression that amidst his female companions, he did not 
himself know exactly whether he were flesh, fish or red 
herring of the sea. I found, however, on later and closer 
acquaintance, that this young fellow, in spite of his con- 
stant female surroundings, like the young Achilles, could 
develop strong manly qualities whenever occasion de- 
manded, and that he was a typical young American with 
all his virtues and faults. 

Of the five ladies, four were young, from eighteen to 
twenty-two years, and only one had reached that period 
of life in which women celebrate only indefinite birthdays. 
The latter seemed to be the leader and something more 
than the chaperon of the young ladies, and the captain 
whispered into my ear that the little party reminded him 
of a proud mother-hen giving her newly-hatched brood 
their first outing. The comparison caused me to smile 
involuntarily, but it was in so far incorrect as only one 
of the young girls was the daughter of the elder lady. 

If I describe these new passengers more in detail, it is 
because I had for several weeks the pleasure of traveling 



— 66 — 



and of coming into closer contact with them. Mrs. C. . . 
the head of the party, was the wife of a wealthy steel tube 
manufacturer and was traveling for her health in Europe 
and the Eastern Mediterranean countries. The object of 
her voyage, however, seemed doubtful under the circum- 
stances, as she had taken upon herself the moral responsi- 
bility for five persons. Of these, one, Miss Fanny, was 
her daughter. The others were Miss Elizabeth B. . . . and 

Miss Rae B , their brother, Master William B 

and Miss Anna R. . . . 

The four young ladies were close friends, although rep- 
resenting four entirely different types of American wom- 
anhood. Miss Fanny was an exceptionally tall, dark- 
blonde, conspicuously slender, with great dreamy eyes, 
who kept day and night close to her friend the younger 
Miss B . . . . , as if she was afraid to lose her. The latter 
was a good head shorter than Miss Fanny, of pleasant dis- 
position, and her handsome features betrayed a high intel- 
lect. As to hair and complexion she belonged to the class 
of lighter brunettes. Miss Fannie and Miss Rae were so 
inseparable that in a spirit of jest I attached to them later 
the epithets "Castoria and Poluxena." If these two 
young ladies did not own, like Heine's two Polish noble- 
men, only one shirt and one catskin night-cap in common, 
they still closely resembled these two heroes of the Ger- 
man poet in so far as they always shared their cabins, 
their rooms, their sweets, and other belongings whenever 
possible. They were of such sympathetic natures that 
when one had no appetite the other did not eat, when one 
slept the other could naturally not keep her eyes open, and 
I even believe that is one was sea-sick the other one, out 
of sheer sympathy, also sacrificed to Neptune. 

Miss Elizabeth B . . . . , the older of the two sisters, was 
the smallest person in the party, but by no means the most 



— 67 — 



insignificant. In spite of her full little figure and her 
smiling round face, glowing with health, she exhibited 
considerable dignity, and her eternal good humor made 
her the center of the small party. She had light brown, 
wavy hair, and whoever looked into her laughing bluish- 
gray eyes, caught involuntarily some of her pleasant hu- 




Distant View of the Acropolis. 

mor. A decided contrast to Miss Elizabeth was Miss 

Anna R , a quiet, thoughtful young lady of graceful 

figure, with blue eyes and a wealth of hair of the lightest 
shade of gold. She was a handsome girl and this ex- 
plained easily why Master William, generally called "Bill" 
or "Billy the Kid," interested himself exclusively in her. 



— 68 - 



It was not until next morning when we were well out of 
the Gulf of Smyrna that I made the acquaintance of my 
traveling companions. As on the voyage from Constan- 
tinople to Smyrna, the steamer had only a few passengers 
on board, and this circumstance not only facilitated a mu- 
tual approach, but made it almost unavoidable. The 
ladies spoke only English and my services as interpreter 
were therefore frequently in demand. It is remarkable 
how rapidly an intimate intercourse develops between the 
passengers of a steamer, and how quickly they get used to 
regard themselves as members of one family. It is true 
that in most cases these relations dissolve themselves into 
nothing as soon as the passengers again set foot on terra 
iirma and scatter to all points of the compass. But some- 
times there are formed upon the unsteady deck of a steam- 
er ties of friendship which are stouter and more reliable 
than the bottom of the vessel upon which they have been 
linked. It seems as if the solitude between heaven and 
ocean, the consciousness of having between oneself and 
death only the weak planks, weak though they be the most 
powerful steel plates, draw people closer to each other. 
I have often observed during heavy storms that persons 
who were exceedingly taciturn before and had seemed to 
repel approach, suddenly became voluble in spite of there 
being no real danger and began conversations with other 
passengers whom they had previously carefully avoided. 

Towards noon the weather became extremely bad. The 
sea rose high and a strong wind lashed the rain, in spite 
of the protecting awning, onto the promenade deck. It 
was nevertheless more pleasant to remain there than in the 
cabins or in the salon, since most of us had become sea- 
sick and preferred the fresh air on deck to the stuffier 
atmosphere below. The steamer rolled and pitched and 
its sides creaked in a way as if the planks were trying to 



— 69 — 



out-groan the sufferers on board, and many a jest with 
which we tried to cheer each other up, stuck fast in our 
throats. Miss Elizabeth had resisted the mal de mer long 
after the others had surrendered, but at last she too had 
to capitulate, and only from time to time a painful smile 
showed that she took any interest in the world at all. 
Castoria and Poluxena had withdrawn to their cabins and 
Mrs. C. . . . lay with closed eyes motionless in a steamer 
chair, while Bill alone seemed to enjoy perfect immunity. 
He was wrapping Miss Anna at short intervals in her 
great shawl and reading to her from "Mr. Dooley." But 
Miss Anna showed no interest whatever in anything but 
the gray masses of water which seemed to exert such a 
magnetism on her that she frequently hurried with an irre- 
sistible impulse to the railing in order to — hear what the 
wild waves were saying. 

In the course of the evening the weather improved 
somewhat, but outside of Bill and myself none of the 
passengers showed up in the salon, and the evening would 
have been very tedious had not the purser enlivened it with 
some Italian folk-songs which he sang to the accompani- 
ment of a guitar, During the night the sea calmed down 
considerably, and in the morning a transparent blue sky 
arched itself over the lightly undulating surface. The 
Greek coast was in sight and the "Jupiter" approached her 
goal rapidly. The young ladies and Mrs. C. . . . were 
again in the best of health and all looked in cheerful ex- 
pectancy, armed with marine glasses, towards the direc- 
tion in which the hill of the Acropolis was soon to appear, 
as the captain had politely assured them. It did not, in 
fact, take very long before the familiar outlines of the 
Parthenon appeared in the distance, a white structure de- 
lineated sharply against the dark background of the Pen- 
telikon. Although this was my second visit to Greece, 



— 70 — 



my heart was fluttering like the first time, full of expec- 
tancy, at the sight of the classic mountain-chains of the 
Hymettus, Parnes and Pentelikon which enclose the Attic 
plain, and I pointed out with zeal and enthusiasm to my 
young companions the various interesting objects and 
sights discernible from boardship. 

Peculiar as is the charm of the Greek landscape, espe- 
cially to the stranger who for the first time beholds this 
classic soil and this clear blue sky, it dwindles into insig- 
nificance as against the deep interest awakened in an in- 
tellectual mind by the old myths and historical reminis- 
cences connected with this sacred cradle of European 
civilization. 

Approaching the harbor of Piraeus several islands are 
left behind, among them Aegina where seven centuries 
B. C. one of the greatest achievements of civilization, the 
coinage of the first silver currency, was accomplished. 
Close to the harbor lies Salamis. What memories the 
view of the narrow stretch of water between this island 
and the coast recalls ! It may have been just such a beauti- 
ful morning when Xerxes seated himself upon his silver 
throne placed yonder on that hill of the shore to watch 
the destruction of the Greek fleet by his own countless ves- 
sels. Looking at that shore I see in my mind the mighty 
ruler rise from his throne and look down with terror in 
his eye upon this same surface under which one after the 
other his proud vessels disappeared, sunk by the staunch 
boats of Themistokles, until the remnants of the fleet 
turned in hasty flight towards the Asiatic coast whence 
they had come. This was one of those decisive battles 
which turn the fate of nations and form an epoch in the 
history of the world. 

My classical contemplations were disturbed by the rat- 
tling of the "Jupiter's" anchor chains and by a noisy crowd 



— 71 — 



of hotel agents, guides and boatsmen climbing at the same 
moment over her sides. They surrounded the passengers, 
gesticulating and clamorously offering their services. Mrs. 
C. . . . and the young ladies who were specially hard 
pressed by the greasy pack from which emanated a pene- 
trating odor of garlic, turned to me for help, and since the 
ladies had already expressed their desire to have me form 
a member of their party while in Athens, I made an end 
to the keen competition by turning our larger baggage 
over to the agent of the Hotel d'Angleterre, who, with the 
remarkable memory peculiar to men of his calling, had 
recognized me as a former guest of that hotel. A large 
row boat brought us and our hand luggage to the custom 
house. The formalities there were quickly gone through 
with and two somewhat dilapidated looking vehicles en- 
gaged, the drivers of which had proved themselves the 
best tackles in the wrangle for our hand baggage. 

Although a short railroad connects Piraeus with Athens, 
it is by far preferable to use one of the carriages waiting 
near the custom house, especially in the winter season 
when the landscape looks fresh and the road is not so 
dusty. The jehus are satisfied with three or four drach- 
mas, about half of what they originally demand, and one 
is well repaid for the longer time occupied by having in 
view, along the whole road, alternately, the hill of the 
Acropolis, the Lycabettus, and other interesting points of 
the landscape. The carriage road is also more interesting 
because it is almost identical with the ancient road which 
at the time of Kimon and Perikles led from Athens to 
Piraeus^securing for the Athenians a safe connection be- 
tween their city and port by means of two strong flanking 
walls of which, however, no vestige remains to-day. 

But, from experience, I should advise careful examina- 
tion of the horses of your conveyance, else it may happen 



that your entry into Athens is accomplished under diffi- 
culties such as we suffered. 

We had hardly left Piraeus when the distance between 
our first and second carriages, which had started simul- 
taneously, and in the latter of which Miss Elizabeth, Bill 
and I were seated, began to increase noticeably. At first 
we did not pay much attention to this, until we reached 
the narrow bed of a small rivulet, the historical Kephissus, 
which crosses the road to Athens within a short distance 
from Piraeus. It was Bill who noticed that the distance 
between us and our first carriage had become quite con- 
siderable. The latter was way ahead of us and disap- 
peared at last behind a group of tall poplar trees. I poked 
the driver in the ribs with my umbrella and pointed in the 
direction in which the carriage had disappeared. He 
shrugged his shoulders and struck with his whip one of 
the horses, which, as we now noticed, was limping pain- 
fully. The pace of the nags became steadily slower, but 
we reached at last the small tavern on the right side of 
the road, half way to Athens, which is so well known to 
most tourists who have visited Greece. It is the unalter- 
able habit of the drivers to stop here, ostensibly for the 
purpose of watering the horses, but in reality to have their 
passengers pay them a glass of raki or masticha. To 
such passengers as do not care to alight for a small re- 
freshment these liquors are offered in the carriage on a 
platter, generally with the popular Greek sweetmeat called 
"Loukoum." Since the taste for raki and masticha must 
really be cultivated, it is preferable to buy some of the 
loukoum which is certainly more palatable to foreigners. 

The first carriage had waited for us and the two drivers 
busied themselves about the lame horse which bled from 
an ugly looking wound in the knee and was otherwise 
covered with open sores. The wound was washed with 



— 73 



cool well-water and after a stop of fifteen to twenty min- 
utes we proceeded on our way. The leisurely trot, how- 
ever, in which we started to follow the first carriage soon 
again changed into a slow walk without our noticing this 
since we were engaged in an animated conversation about 
the city, visible at some distance, and its surrounding land- 




view of Athens from the Acropolis. 



marks. Suddenly the carriage stopped. The lame horse 
had fallen and could not be brought to rise in spite of the 
driver's energetic use of the whip. Bill dismounted and 
stopped the jehu from further abuse of the poor nag and 
helped him to get it out of harness. But the second nag, 



— 74 — 



although not lame, was too weak and decrepit to pull us 
alone to the city. 

We were considering the advisability of walking the 
rest of the way, more than two miles, when our driver, 
whom, by the way, we had heard addressed by the classi- 
cal name of Pelopidas, stopped a passing mule cart and 
began negotiations with its owner for the loan of his ani- 
mal. We surmised this by the gestures of the two men, 
who soon came to an understanding. The cart was drawn 
to the edge of the road and the mule harnessed to our 
vehicle, while the fallen nag was brought to his trembling 
feet and transferred to the empty cart. Upon trying to 
proceed it became evident that the mule was not accus- 
tomed to pulling in double harness, as it stubbornly re- 
fused to move. The energetic lashes of the driver were 
answered by just as energetic kicks, and, in order to save 
the carriage, nothing remained but to unharness the ani- 
mal. Had the road at this point not been too muddy we 
should now have started to walk. As it was, we remained 
seated in the carriage waiting for developments. I pro- 
posed jestingly to ride to town on three of the long-eared 
and crooked-nosed goats which were pasturing in the 
neighboring fields, and the faces of which resemble so 
strikingly some Semitic types of the Orient. Miss Eliza- 
beth agreed laughingly to this proposition, while Billy pro- 
tested energetically against such an abuse of his name- 
sakes, to which protest Miss Elizabeth remarked that 
sometime or other Billy would have to ride the goat any- 
way. 

We were thus jesting about our ludicrous situation, 
when a second cart drawn by a single horse overtook us. 
Pelopidas stopped this vehicle too, and after a prolonged 
parley with its owner the new steed was harnessed to our 
carriage. The two animals now pulled away, and we 



- 75 — 



were congratulating ourselves upon our chances of at last 
reaching Athens. Alas ! we found very soon that the new 
equine acquisition had a peculiarity even more dangerous 
than- that of its immediate predecessor, as it threatened 
every minute to throw us out of the carriage. The new- 
comer had the tendency to forever pull to the right tow- 
ards the ditch, and no exertion of the driver, no pulling of 
the lines, was able to keep him in the middle of the road. 
He was bound to walk into the ditch. There was nothing 
left for Pelopidas but to dismount and to lead the animal 
by the bridle. It was in this way that we rode into the city 
of Perikles, and it may be imagined that the frequenters of 
busy Hermes Street through which our way to the hotel 
led, were not a little amused at such an entry. We found 
Mrs. C. . . . and Miss Anna awaiting us anxiously in front 
of the hotel, while Castoria and Poluxena were already 
preparing for lunch. By this time it was noon. Our 
drive from Piraeus had occupied two and one-half hours 
instead of three-quarters of an hour, but nevertheless — 
Pelopidas demanded the usual tip, 



V. 



Athens. — Modern Street Sketches. — Sidewalk Mon- 
opoly. — Itinerant Merchants. — A Greek Funeral. 
— A Peculiar Cemetery. — The EvanGelistaria. 
— The Acropolis in Moonlight. — Apollo, the Pro- 
fessor of Music. 

The stranger visiting Athens has a double surprise in 
store for him, first when he enters his hotel, and second 
when he leaves it for the first time for the purpose of tak- 
ing a reconnoitering stroll in the neighborhood. The 
Athenian hotels worthy of being considered suitable for 
European or American travelers are all situated on Con- 
stitution Square, which is the center of the city, or in the 
immediate vicinity thereof, as are the Hotel d'Angleterre, 
Grand Bretagne, Minerva, etc. Most of them are 
equipped sumptuously enough to be favorably compared 
with hostelries standing on the Champs Elysees, Unter den 
Linden, or on the Ringstrasse. As one does not expect 
in Athens such modern caravanseries, this is the first sur- 
prise. The second is experienced by stepping into the 
street and taking a walk on Constitution Square, Hermes 
Street, Stadion Street, or any other thoroughfare in the 
near vicinity. The impression, although slightly strange, 
is entirely modern. The buildings of brick and stone plas- 
tered with white stucco, show the general style of South- 
ern European architecture, and only rarely can a house 
be seen that is constructed in the style of the classical 
period of Greece. Even the palace of the king which occu- 
pies, behind a park front, a whole side of Constitution 
Square is, in spite of its large proportions, an unimportant, 



— 77 — 



tasteless structure, which might just as well be taken for 
a barrack, hospital, or orphan asylum. The only redeem- 
ing 1 feature in connection with this so-called palace is the 
beautiful garden at the rear, which on certain days is open 
to the public. The crowd which frequents this part of the 
city in the late afternoon is just as modern as the buildings, 
cafes, and the show windows of the streets, and if one 
may judge by the appearance of the people, then Greece 
cannot be as poor a country as is generally asserted. The 
elegant toilets of the ladies, which frequently betray 
Parisian or Viennese origin, the well-dressed gentlemen, 
and the multitude of officers strolling about in tasty uni- 
forms and with clanking swords, have such a festive look 
that one is tempted to believe in an eternal Athenian holi- 
day. The only strange figures in this crowd are the sol- 
diers of the Royal Guard who wear a uniform closely 
resembling the national costume of the Greek peasantry. 
This uniform consists of a soft fez-like headgear with a 
long tassel, short jacket, kilts, white woolen tights and 
curved shoes with a woolen tassel at the point. These 
soldiers look for all the world like ballet girls, but are 
said to form the elite of the Greek army. 

Altogether this modern quarter does not represent that 
picture which one has involuntarily formed of the city, 
and the surprise comes very near to being a disappoint- 
ment. The only thing that appears natural is the clear, 
transparent air, the deep blue, glorious sky, and the radi- 
ance of white sunlight which almost blinds the eye. This 
is sunny Greece, the home of the gay Grecian gods ; this 
is the atmosphere in which during our college days we 
pictured to ourselves the heroes of the Greek myths and 
history ; and it is too bad that the reality does not corre- 
spond entirely with our imagination. 

But one thing the modern Greek has inherited from his 



— 78 — 



ancestors, and it is perhaps the only one. It is his pre- 
dilection for outdoor life, and just as the ancient Greeks 
spent most of their time in public, so their descendants do 
to-day. Nowhere may one better observe the life of the 
native population and nowhere can be seen such un- 
hampered freedom in the use of streets and sidewalks as 



The Royal Palace in Athens. 

in Athens. Cafes and restaurants especially take liberties 
in this direction which would not be tolerated in any other 
European city and which are entirely unheard of in Amer- 
ica. Not satisfied with the monopoly of the sidewalks, 
these establishments appropriate even the road for their 
private uses. It is an every-day sight, particularly late 



— 79 — 



in the afternoon, to see Constitution Square, for example, 
covered with tables and chairs as far as the long shadows 
of the buildings will permit, and if this square were not 
so large, carriages passing in the early evening hours 
would have to wind their way through the eating, drink- 
ing, and domino or chess playing crowd. 

How much the Athenian loves to live in the open air 
is proven by the fact that even in his own home whenever 
the weather is favorable, he takes his meals on the balcony 
or the terrace, and if he is not fortunate enough to possess 
such, in the courtyard or even on the sidewalk. The prin- 
cipal meal is taken, according to the season, between 
seven and ten o'clock in the evening. Of course, theaters 
and other places of amusement, having to conform to these 
hours, begin very late. The lower class of the population, 
however, does not follow this custom of late dining. 

To get acquainted with the latter class it is necessary 
to visit other districts than those in the vicinity of Con- 
stitution Square. The life in the lower strata of Athens is 
very much like that of certain quarters in Naples, such as 
Santa Lucia, Strada di Porto, etc., although the dirt and 
squalor here are not as repulsive as in the Italian city. 
Business and the trades are conducted almost exclusively 
in public, and the people eat, drink, discuss politics, quar- 
rel and even pick the insects off their bodies in the street. 
The goats which are driven from house to house and are 
milked in the presence of the customers, also remind one 
of Naples. This is a rather effective way of preventing 
professional milk adulteration and is insisted on by the 
customers, as they know their wily compatriots. It is a 
case where Greek meets Greek. The Athenian is not only 
always sure to get pure milk, but he also has a good and 
cheap supply of fine fruits, vegetables and other victuals, 
which are sold in a spacious, glass-covered, public market 



— 80 — 



hall. In saying "Athenian" I am here speaking strictly 
of the masculine sex, for it is almost exclusively the lords 
of creation who attend to the purchases for the household 
in the early morning. Since, however, a noble Greek may 
not with great propriety lug his own market basket, there 
exists in Athens a special class of boys, who follow the 
shopper to the market hall with baskets, and for a small 
consideration carry the purchases home while the gentle- 
man repairs to his favorite cafe for the purpose of reading 
the "Asty" or the "Acropolis." 

Among the street types which one meets in the morn- 
ing and early forenoon in the side streets, the peddlers 
of "Koulouria" (a kind of rolls) who carry their goods 
on a flat board upon the head, or in a basket slung around 
the neck, are most numerous. With their loud cry is 
mixed that of the butter dealers : "Voutyro ! Voutyro !" 
and that of the clam and garlic peddlers. The turkey mer- 
chant, armed with a long stick, drives his living goods 
through the crowd, and his loud cry of "Gallous ! Gallo- 
poules !" drowns the noise of his flock. Among the pic- 
turesque types must also be counted the long-haired and 
long-bearded "Papas" (Greek-catholic priest) with his 
high headgear and his long black robe, and the small, 
heavy-laden donkeys, which almost disappear under their 
burden. I wish it to be understood that there is no malice 
intended in mentioning the two latter types in one breath, 
although I have been told that they sometimes do not 
materially differ in point of intelligence from each other, 
especially in the rustic districts. As to bodily cleanliness, 
the difference is said to be still less. 

The stranger in Athens receives a disagreeable impres- 
sion if he chances to meet a funeral procession, and I 
should advise ladies more especially to avoid these if pos- 
sible. I vividly remember the horror of the ladies with 



— 81 — 



whom I was taking 1 a walk one day when we allowed one 
of these processions to pass us while standing on an ele- 
vated point of vantage. As the open coffin following the 
funeral band was carried past us and the rigid, waxen 
features of a young girl, dressed in white, who lay in it 
with folded hands met our gaze, some of the ladies uttered 




Ruins of the Jupiter Temple in Athens. 



a subdued cry ana all turned quickly from the ghastly 
object. I was acquainted with this custom of escorting 
the dead in an open coffin to their last resting-place from 
my former visit in Athens and from Russian travels, but 
I shall never forget the gruesome impression which such 
a funeral procession made on me in Russia as I saw it for 



- 82 - 



the first time from the compartment of a railway car, 
passing along the tracks at a small station on the line 
between Charkow and RostofT. 

There are other peculiar customs in Athens in connec- 
tion with the disposing of the dead, and a visit to the mod- 
ern cemetery (strangers generally visit only the Kerami- 
kos, the ancient burial-place) may well be recommended. 
Close before the entrance rises the handsome marble tomb 
of Schlieman. Broad, well-kept paths, strewn with fine 
gravel, lead in several directions from inside the gate. 
These paths are lined with handsome tombstones, mostly 
of white marble, which frequently take the form of sym- 
bolic figures and portrait statues. Some show the photo- 
graphs of the deceased in small niches under glass and 
nearly all are adorned with wreaths of artificial or natural 
flowers. This part of the cemetery seems to be reserved 
for the wealthier class and in appearance resembles some- 
what the Campo Santo^ of Milan, without, however, the 
same pretensions to luxury and art in the monuments. 
The graves in this part are owned by the families, or 
are at least rented for long periods. The lower middle 
classes and the poor lease the graves for their dead, ac- 
cording to their means, for a number of years, and the 
corner of the poorest in the most distant part of the cem- 
etery offers strong testimony of the frequent and not too 
careful exhumation of the bodies. We ourselves saw 
bones strewn here in the sand which could have belonged 
only to human bodies and which were evidently left 
through carelessness, unless, perchance, they were 
scratched out of the ground by the dogs. An Athenian 
gentleman assured us that this is frequently the case, as 
the coffins are buried at shallow depths and the cevers are 
never screwed down, but only loosely fitted in order to 
advance decomposition more rapidly. At the end of the 



— 83 — 



leased term the bones are exhumed and cleaned from the 
fleshy particles, in case such should still exist, after which 
they are put in bags marked with the name and date of 
birth and death of the deceased. These sacks are pre- 
served in a chapel-like building in the cemetery. When 
we saw this chapel it was nearly filled to the ceiling with 
such bags and heaps of them were laying outside, while 
skulls and bones in flat tin pans were bleaching all around. 
The manner of finally disposing of these bones after the 
chapel cannot hold any more bags, is unknown to me. 

Two of the most interesting streets of Athens, one of 
which is called the Evangelistaria, branch off "at the small 
ancient Byzantine church which stands about the middle 
of Hermes Street, in the direction towards Piraeus. These 
streets are devoted almost exclusively to the sale of goods 
connected with orthodox Greek religious life and cus- 
toms, such as wax candles of different sizes, colors and 
decorations which are used in large quantities at funerals, 
church services, baptisms, weddings and also as offerings 
to the church. There are sold ikons (pictures of saints), 
painted and of various metals, miniature silver and gold 
hearts, legs, arms, etc., which are favorite offerings to 
saints after the cure of diseases affecting corresponding 
parts of the body. The Greeks and Russians are very 
practical people in this respect, and although they love 
their saints, their motto remains "No cure, no pay." Some 
of the numerous saints are especially effective in cures 
and, like the Holy Virgin and St. Nicholas, enjoy more 
popularity than others. Their pictures and statues are 
frequently almost hidden behind these little anatomical 
offerings. 

Among other things that may be purchased in these 
streets are wedding and funeral wreaths, baptismal outfits, 
and similar articles. They contain, furthermore, the 



— 84 — 



stores and workshops of the ecclesiastical tailors, (made 
conspicuous by signs bearing the device of an open pair 
of scissors surmounted by a priest's headgear) and the 
studios of the ikon painters. Strangers will find here 
many things in the shape of curios which they may wish 
to purchase ; it is advisable, however, not to offer or pay 
more than about half of the price demanded. 

On a moonlit evening, after having secured the neces- 
sary permission through the hotel porter, I walked up 
alone to the Acropolis to smoke an after-dinner cigar 
among the ruins and to meditate on the past glories of 
Greece. I had visited the Acropolis several times before 
and had admired its beauties in the radiant light of the 
Athenian sun ; I had studied the details of the little temple 
of Nike Apteros, and the Karyatides of the Erechtheion ; 
I had climbed the stairs of the Propylaea, had wandered 
through the little museum of Acropolitan antiquities and 
had enjoyed the magnificent view from the Belvedere at 
sunset. Now I wished to see all this again in the mellow 
light of the moon under which all lines are softened and 
which is best suited for reverie and contemplation. 

When I passed Constitution Square it was crowded 
with people, but the side streets were forsaken, and I met 
few persons as I passed the white marble statue of Lord 
Byron standing amidst the dark foliage of a little park, 
the arch of Hadrian and the gigantic columns of the tem- 
ple of the Olympian Jupiter. Reaching the foot of the 
hill where the winding way to the Acropolis begins, I 
walked slowly with my eyes fixed upon the precipitous 
rock from the height of which the hoary walls threw 
opaque shadows across the way. The theater of Bacchus 
was wrapped in darkness and the half demolished rows of 
seats were hardly discernible through the iron grills. The 
empty arch windows in the Odeon of Herodes Attikus 



— 85 — 



were but dimly outlined against the dark background. 
Leaving this massive structure behind I stepped from the 
deep shadow into the broad, moonlit path which leads from 
here on, lined by a hedge of gigantic cacti, in one large 
curve to the foot of the Propylaea. Here, where in the 
daytime guides and itinerary venders of antiquities and 




Choragic Monument of Lysicrates, Athens. 



souvenirs waylay the gullible tourist, the most perfect still- 
ness reigned and only the dark figure of a watchman 
moved about near the temple of Nike Apteros. However, 
as I entered the large court covered with broken columns 
and other marble fragments to which the stairway of the 
Propylsea leads. I noticed between the columns of the 



- 86 - 



Parthenon several persons, who, like me, were paying a 
visit to the Acropolis in moonlight. Turning to the left 
I soon reached a spot from where could be had an unob- 
structed view of the front of the Parthenon above, the old 
site of Athens in front, and the modern city below me. I 
lit a cigar and was soon lost in deep reverie. 

To the left at some distance, but plainly visible, rose 
the great tomb of Philopappos, the grandson of that unfor- 
tunate Antiochus of Syria, who was deprived of his throne 
by Vespasian. Somewhat nearer, separated from the Ac- 
ropolis by a shallow vale, yawned the dark openings of 
the prison of Sokrates hewn into the rocky wall of a low 
hill. Directly below me lay the Areopagus and the uneven 
plateau of the small rock was so brightly illuminated by 
the moon that I could plainly discern the black fissures 
in the stones. Beyond and to the left of the Areopagus 
appeared the Pnyx, the rostrum of the Attic orators, and 
further on rose the Hill of the Muses crowned by the 
modern observatory. At a greater distance, isolated upon 
an open square, could be distinguished the noble outlines 
of the Theseion, and letting my glance run farther tow- 
ards the horizon I saw a glittering stripe of the dark 
Aegean Sea. To the right, way below, stretched the 
modern city with its thousand lights, but the faint noise 
which rises from there during the day had ceased at this 
hour altogether. 

The absolute quiet facilitated my reverie and helped my 
imagination to populate the site within view with all those 
historical figures which make the Acropolis and its imme- 
diate surroundings one of the most venerable spots in the 
world. The plateau of the Areopagus slowly filled with 
classical personages. I saw congregate there the members 
of the ancient tribunal whose origin dates as far back as 
the time of Kekrops, and before which even Orestes ap- 



—•87 — 



peared in order to clear himself from the accusation of 
matricide. Yonder on the Pnyx arose the shades of Aes- 
chynes and Demosthenes, and I heard the thundering 
philippic of the latter and the frantic applause of the 
people carried away by the power of his rhetoric. In the 
shadow over yonder, the spirits of the friends and pupils 
of the great philosopher were wending their way towards 
his prison to imbibe the last teachings from his lips be- 
fore the cup of hemlock juice closed them forever. Up 
the winding path I saw the Eleusinian procession ap- 
proach and mount the sacred stairs of the Propylsea. The 
mysterious chant sounded faintly in my ear. Suddenly 
some one touched my shoulder. With a startled move I 
turned quickly around. Before me stood one of those 
shabby genteel figures which during the day loaf about 
the entrance to the Acropolis in order to offer tourists 
their services as guides. 

"You wish zee guide?" asked the man in broken Eng- 
lish, politely raising his hat. 

"Go to the devil !" I exclaimed sharply, provoked at the 
unwelcome interruption. 

"Me can you show everyzing and explain," he continued, 
without allowing himself to be disturbed by my irritated 
manner. 

"I do not need a guide !" 

"Me do you vera cheap. No buzziness to-day. Only 
one drachma !" 

"I do not need you." Thoroughly awakened from my 
reverie I rose and walked away in the direction of the 
Erechtheion. But something in the voice of the man had 
touched me, and his face looked so haggard in the pale 
moonlight that I could not refrain from turning around 
when I heard his steps behind me. 



— 88 — 



"Here, take this, but I do not want your services !" I 
said, handing the man a paper drachma. 

"No, no, me no beggar ! Me you show everyzing." 

I resigned myself to my fate and allowed him to ac- 
company me. It did not take long to find out that the man 
was one of those ignorant fellows who, with fair local 
knowledge and a few names and dates learned by heart, 
feel themselves competent to act as guides, and whose 
services, I am sorry to state, are to the large majority 
of tourists quite satisfactory. I allowed him to speak 
without interruption and listened with seeming attention 
to his stereotyped recitals. My feigned ignorance when, 
for example, at the mention of names like Phidias, Peri- 
kles, etc., I inquired who they were, whether they were 
living or had been dead for some time, only increased his 
zeal, and I got to hear the most wonderful stories about the 
heroes of old Greece. From the Erechtheion we walked 
over to the rear platform of the Parthenon, which is al- 
most totally destroyed and from whence the front part 
with its magnificent white columns and strong contrasts 
of deep black shadows offered such a magical view that T 
tore myself away only with reluctance. 

"You still must see zee Belvedere," said the guide, after 
he had finished his suada about the Parthenon. And we 
repaired to the smalt, familiar point of observation, from 
which I had often enjoyed the charming view of Mont 
Lycabettus, the more distant hills beyond, the Stadion, the 
Temple of Jupiter, the arch of Hadrian and a part of the 
modern city. The scene in moonlight, although different, 
was not less charming. After allowing my cicerone again 
to finish a long recital about the various interesting points 
visible from here, I exclaimed, in order to reward him 
somewhat for his enthusiasm : 



— 89 — 



"It is really very pretty here and I can easily compre- 
hend why this spot is called Belvedere." 

"Ah !" he said surprised. "You know why zee place is 
called zee Belvedere?" 

"Certainly! — on account of the beautiful view which 
one enjoys from here." 

"Ah !" he replied, in a disappointed tone, "I see you 




Temple of the Wingless Victory, Athens. 

not know. It is so called from zee Apollo de Belvedere." 

"Really?" I said in a doubting tone. "And who was 
this gentleman?" 

"Oh !" said he, glancing at me suspiciously, "he no gen- 
tleman ! You really not know ?" 

"No," I replied, as earnestly as possible. 

"Well, zat is funny! You not know see Apollo, — zee 
professor of music !" 



— 90 — 



I had to bite my lips in order to suppress an almost 
uncontrollable desire to laugh. The conversation amused 
me to such a degree that I continued the same in a similar 
tone. 

''Why! — is this professor so celebrated?" I asked. 
"What instrument does he play ?" 

"But, no instrument! — Is dead long time. Apollo he 
first find music.' , 

"Indeed!" I exclaimed. "What countryman was he?" 

"Greek, — certainly !" he replied proudly. 

"Excuse me," I said ; "judging by the name I thought it 
might have been a French or Italian gentleman." 

By this time I considered that I had gained sufficient 
new information for one evening and discharged the guide 
who withdrew with many deep obeisances, after I had 
pressed a fifty-lepta piece into his hand as an extra grati- 
fication. The charm of my nightly visit to the Acropolis 
had been broken by this intermezzo, and I did not succeed 
in getting again into the right frame of mind for further 
reverie. I strolled a little while longer among the ruins 
of the great court and then returned to the hotel the way 
I had come. 



VI. 

Greek Prisons. — Phrenological Researches by Miss 
Elizabeth. — A Democratic Court. — Panorama 

FROM THE LYCABETTUS. On THE "CZAR NICHOLAS 

II." — Passengers to Alexandria. — A Lucky Dog. — 
Revenge. — Landing in Egypt. 

Modern Athens, as to most strangers, seemed to be 
specially attractive to the C. . . . party, to which I had 
allied myself, and therefore it was not the classic monu- 
ments alone which excited our interest. The cultured pub- 
lic, through works of science and travel, has become so 
well acquainted with the numerous historical remains of 
the Greek capital that it would be carrying coal to New- 
castle should I endeavor to write at length about these in 
a book which pretends to be not much more than a plain 
narrative of personal observation and adventure. The 
reader, therefore, will hardly miss anything if I omit a de- 
tailed description of the ancient sites and buildings and 
confine myself more to the modern city. 

Our party divided their interest impartially between the 
old and the new. If, for example, we had spent the morn- 
ing paying a visit to the Keramikos, the Stadion or some 
museum, we frequently used the afternoon for an excur- 
sion to Phaleron, Mont Lycabettus, etc., or we strolled 
through those quarters of the city which offered the best 
chances to study the life and the character of the people. 
During one of these walks a two-story building in the 
vicinity of the Stoia Hadriana, guarded by sentinels, ex- 
cited our curiosity. Upon inquiry we were informed that 



— 92 — 



this was the municipal jail and an accommodating officer 
politely offered to gain for us admission to it. 

Through a low vaulted gateway we were conducted into 
a small court crowded with prisoners, among whom sev- 
eral soldiers of the guard were moving about. Through 
the iron-grated windows on the ground floor we could 
look into semi-dark cells which contained no furniture 
whatever and in which the numerous prisoners were occu- 
pied partly with dice or card playing and partly with the 
making of various small carved and braided knick-knacks 
which were offered us for purchase as soon as the inmates 
caught sight of our party. From the galleries of the upper 
story which ran all around the court and which were also 
crowded with prisoners, we were greeted with laughter 
and hilarious exclamations. The poor fellows were im- 
mensely pleased with our visit, which offered them a wel- 
come change and an opportunity to sell some of their hand- 
made little articles. They seemed to belong to all ranks 
of society, from the peasant in his picturesque national 
costume to the well-dressed merchant, and their features 
betrayed the most varied grades of intelligence. We were 
told that prisoners already sentenced and such as had not 
yet been interrogated by a judge were mingled here, and 
that frequently weeks passed before the latter received a 
first hearing. The food furnished the prisoners is said to 
be too little to live on and too much to starve on. If one 
of these poor devils should happen not to have any rela- 
tives or friends to supply him with food, he must depend 
for it on the compassion of his luckier companions in mis- 
fortune, else he has to suffer the pangs of hunger. Re- 
garding sleeping commodities the conditions are even 
worse. Twenty to thirty prisoners are crowded into one 
cell which contains neither table nor chairs and where the 
damp and filthy floor offers the only place for rest and 



— 93 — 



sleep. There is no distinction made as to age or grade 
of crime, and old men and boys, murderers and simple 
drunkards, share the same cell, sleeping body to body and 
eating out of the same dish. 

It is remarkable, however, that no sad faces are to be 
seen among these prisoners. On the contrary, many of them 




Hill of the Nymphs and Observatory, Athens 

look joyous and some seem even to be extremely happy. 
Should they ever conspire to effect an escape it would be 
a small matter for them, as the prisoners have free inter- 
course with each other, and their guards, as far as one can 
observe, are of small number and decidedly negligent in 
the performance of their duties. There are no special ob- 



— 94 - 



stacles put in the way of friends and relatives who wish to 
visit prisoners, and we ourselves observed inmates of 
ground floor cells, the windows of which opened onto the 
street, entering into conversations with passersby and re- 
ceiving food through the iron gratings. 

Becoming interested in Greek penal methods, we paid 
next day a visit to the state penitentiary, situated at a 
short distance from the city, the director of which was 
kind enough to conduct us personally through the institu- 
tion. The penitentiary buildings consist of an old mon- 
astery-like structure, on the surrounding walls of which 
sentinels are placed at intervals in such a way that the 
outer vicinity as well as the courtyards of the building 
may be watched at the same time. This is the sole penal 
institution of the country and it contains only long-term 
and life criminals, but they seem to enjoy much the same 
sort of treatment which we had observed in the municipal 
jail. The prisoners move about freely in the semi-dark, 
vaulted corridors, and pay each other neighborly visits in 
their cells. Most of the doors were open and a glance into 
the rooms showed the inmates either slumbering on their 
beds, talking, or busying themselves with some light work 
which seemed more pastime than earnest occupation. Sev- 
eral individuals were loitering about in the court-yards 
while others were, like Neapolitan lazzaronis, lazily squat- 
ting in the sunshine. Only a few cells were locked. 

At our request we were admitted into several of the lat- 
ter which contained dangerous, life-term prisoners. Upon 
our entrance, the inmates, as a rule, arose with a pleasant 
greeting and willingly replied to such questions as were 
put to them. One of these fellows even submitted to hav- 
ing his palms and his cranium examined by Miss Eliza- 
beth and Miss Rae, both of whom were enthusiastic ama- 
teur palmists and phrenologists. The result of these ex- 



- 95 — 



animations was indisputable. The signs of the palms as 
well as the elevations and depressions of the cranium 
pointed to brutality and degeneration, and a mistake in the 
interpretation of the mysterious lines and cranial bumps 
was impossible, as the living proof stood indisputably be- 
fore our eyes. Lombroso could not have done it better. 

This proof of infallibility on the part of Miss Elizabeth 
and Miss Rae filled my heart with hope, since my head and 
my palms had also been examined one evening at the hotel 
by the two charming sisters who, on that occasion, had 
prognosticated that I was to enjoy a long life and die a 
rich man. To-day, while writing these lines, I feel assured 
of the truth of the first part of this prophecy, for it is only 
the unlimited faith in this which encourages me to give, by 
the publication of this book, my enemies a chance to bring 
me to an earlier grave. As to the second part of the proph- 
ecy, I do not doubt for a moment that I am destined to roll 
in wealth from the proceeds of this book, and that I shall 
live to receive my publisher's check for the royalties of the 
thousandth edition. 

The surprising willingness of the prisoner to allow him- 
self to be examined in this way, did not, however, spring 
from a scientific or other unselfish motive. As we were 
about to retire from the cell after the completed examina- 
tion, he brought forth a number of small trifles of his own 
manufacture which, while pointing out his services as ex- 
perimental object, he offered us for sale at prices which 
were by no means modest. Truly the man deserved his 
fate. The idea of demanding a reward for the privilege 
of having two charming young ladies touch his dirty hands 
and slip their rosy fingers for several minutes through his 
greasy hair ! 

Proceeding farther through the corridors, the director 
took pains to point out to us various individuals as the 



— 96 — 



heroes of notorious or especially remarkable crimes. 
Among others he showed us the man who only a few 
months before had fired a shot from ambush at King 
George, as the latter was driving in company of one of 
his daughters on the road to Phaleron. But by far the 
most interesting inmate of the penitentiary was a little 
boy of about five years, an orphan, whose father, a long 
term criminal, had been allowed to keep the little fellow 
with him until further disposition. Mrs. C. . . . ex- 
pressed an opinion as to the baleful influence which this 
life in pentitentiary must have on the growing boy, but 
the director informed us that so far the contrary was the 
case and that the little fellow was seemingly exercising a 
beneficial influence on the prisoners, whose general pet 
he was, and who overwhelmed him with self-made toys 
and saved for him the choicest morsels of the prison fare. 

To strangers who interest themselves in the royal fam- 
ily, frequently occasion is offered to see some of its mem- 
bers during their daily walks and drives, and even an 
audience with King George or Crown Prince Constantine 
is not very difficult to obtain. I had the pleasure of being 
received by the latter without much ceremony during my 
first stay in Athens, through the intervention of his erst- 
while aide-de-camp, Major Hadjipietro. The latter's 
acquaintance I had made by means of a written introduc- 
tion from the American minister. The Greek court is the 
most democratic of all courts in Europe and this example 
of royalty is followed by the ministers and other high state 
officials. It does not take much formality to obtain an 
interview with one of these gentlemen, and I may cite as 
proof of the simplicity of these matters that I was, with- 
out previous notice, one evening asked by an Athenian 
acquaintance, the correspondent of a Russian newspaper, 



— 97 — 



to accompany him to a reception given by the minister of 
war. 

"But, my dear friend," said I, "I have not been invited, 
I do not know anyone there, and can really not conceive 
what would justify me in appearing at this reception." 

"Let that be my care," he replied laughingly, "I will 




The Ancient Cemetery ot Athens. 

introduce you to the minister. We are not so particular 
here." 

On the afternoon of the day before our departure for 
Alexandria — I was now considered a member of Mrs. 
C . . . . 's traveling party — we climbed up Mont Lycabet- 
tus in order to enjoy once more an extended view of the 



— 98 — 



city and its farther environs. The ascent to the summit 
which is crowned by a small church, occupies less than 
an hour, but is somewhat fatiguing on account of the steep 
grade. The edifice mentioned is dedicated to Saint George 
and it is from this church that Mont Lycabettus takes its 
modern name of "Hagios Georgios." Its interior is with- 
out any interest whatever to strangers, but the outlook 
from the encircling wall is beautiful beyond description. 
Although the view from the summit of Pentelikon is more 
extended, this one is decidedly preferable, as it offers more 
detail. Old Attika from here expands free on all sides 
like a cyclorama, the observation platform being formed 
by the narrow summit of Lycabettus in the center. The ad- 
miring glance of the observer wanders over the Acropolis, 
the city and the plain, to the Piraeus, the Bay of Phaleron 
and over Aegina and Salamis, far out to the sea. Towards 
the west is visible the hazy purple of the distant moun- 
tains of Argos and Corinth. The Bay of Eleusis is hidden 
by a lower group of hills connecting in the north with 
Parnes. Towards the northeast the eye rests on the Pen- 
telikon and may follow the historical road to Marathon, 
while in the southeast the horizon is shut off by the chain 
of the Hymettus ever changing its glorious hues. We 
stood there lost in admiration, observing the kaleidoscopic 
changes in the color tones of the landscape as the sun was 
sinking towards the west until the evening shadows at last 
gradually obscured the charming picture from view. The 
wondrous effects of this scene cannot be described for it 
is only the brush of the artist and not words which can 
fitly illustrate the misty tenderness, the rosy, orange, violet 
and purple tones, that make a sunset viewed from Mont 
Lycabettus a sight never to be forgotten. 

Darkness was rapidly approaching when we started 
down hill, and the gas lamps on Constitution Square were 



— 99 — 



illuminating the usual evening scenes when we reached 
our hotel to get the luggage ready for our departure. 

This time it was a Russian steamer, the "Czar Nicholas 
II," which we were to take and the boat was ready for sail- 
ing when we alighted from our carriages next morning at 
the landing quay in Piraeus prepared to be rowed on 
board. At this moment an unforeseen incident came near 
separating me from Mrs. C. .. .'s party. Some blunder 
had been made at the issuing of the ladies' tickets and 
nearly an hour passed before the misunderstanding at the 
steamer-agent's office nearby was so far cleared up that 
the ladies could go on board with their luggage. Even 
so, Mrs. C. . . . had to deposit the price of six tickets, 
which she did under protest, receiving a promise of re- 
imbursement after the mistake should be cleared up to the 
satisfaction of the steamship company by the Athens ticket 
agent. - 

We had just mounted the ship's ladder, when the steam- 
er weighed anchor, and a few hours later the main coast 
of Greece was only visible as a faint stripe of mist on the 
horizon, while before us one after the other the various 
picturesque islands of the Cyclades group rose out of the 
dark blue sea. The weather was magnificent and the air 
on deck so pleasant that most of the passengers did not 
leave it except for their meals. The "Nicholas II" was, 
in comparison with the Levant steamers of the Austrian 
Lloyd, large and roomy, but the quality of the fare was 
much inferior to that of the latter. The number of cabin 
passengers was not too large to crowd the promenade 
deck and in general this part of the traveling company, 
although mixed in nationalities, seemed to be very good. 
The steerage passengers consisted largely of Russian 
peasants making a pilgrimage to the Holy Land under the 
leadership of a pope (Russian clergyman). A consider- 

Lof C. 



— 100 — 



able part of the cargo was formed of live sheep which oc- 
cupied not only a large section of the hold, but also a divi- 
sion of the main deck, and, in consequence, made them- 
selves frequently and disagreeably noticeable to the ears 
and noses of the passengers. Among these four-legged 
passengers, which were in plain view from the rear part 
of the promenade deck, were sitting or reclining several 
Russian peasant women, whose favorite occupation dur- 
ing the sunny afternoon hours seemed to be the chase of 
parasites on each other's heads. Some times, however, 
they would chase on their own hunting grounds, but, of 
course, only in such places which were within comfortable 
reach and view. 

Among the first-cabin passengers were several whose 
acquaintance I had already made in Athens, and I was 
especially glad to meet on board Mr. and Mrs. Jeremiah 
Curtin with whom I had spent some very pleasant hours 
in the hotel. The noted English translator of "Quo 
Vadis" and other works of the Polish author Sienkiewicz 
is a man who had traveled considerably and is a remark- 
able linguist for an American. He is also an entertaining 
and genial conversationalist. Mrs. Curtin was almost as 
interesting a woman as her husband was a man, and the 
numerous later meetings which I had with this couple in 
Cairo, Sakkara and Luxor will ever be counted among my 
most pleasant traveling reminiscences. 

Another American group that had been among the 
guests of the Hotel d'Angleterre were Mr. and Mrs. S . . . . 
and their son. They were, like myself, from C . . . . , but, 
in spite of our co-citizenship, I cannot say that they were 
in any way sympathetic people. The couple were both 
devoid of all culture and refinement, but while the hus- 
band, by wise silence, hardly ever allowed this defect to 
become noticeable, the unceasing chatter of the wife be- 



— 101 — 



trayed every moment her astonishing ignorance. Her 
favorite topic of conversatoin was the travels which they 
had so far made and which they had planned for the 
future, partly for pleasure, but mainly on account of her 
extremely delicate health. When Mrs. S.... did not 
speak of the Vatican in Paris or the Coliseum in Berlin, 




Tartar Type on S. S. "Nicholas II." 

(I exaggerate here slightly), she tried to entertain the 
company at the table or on deck with the enumeration of 
her numerous ailments. Her appearance, by the by, con- 
tradicted effectually her statements, her healthy complex- 
ion and full figure forming a strong contrast to the nar- 
row, sunken chest, drawn-up shoulders and thin, pallid 



— 102 — 



face of her husband who looked, next to her, like a living 
skeleton. The son, however, was a robust young fellow 
of eighteen years who attached himself to our Billy, when- 
ever the latter had no knightly duties to perform in the 
service of Miss Anna. 

Next to the persons mentioned, my special attention was 
attracted by a very handsome but exceedingly delicate, 
almost transparently thin American young lady who was 
traveling in company with her mother, and who was rec- 
ognized by Miss Elizabeth as a former schoolmate. This 
young lady affected very aristocratic airs, and, with the 
exception of the C. . . . party, kept aloof from the other 
passengers. Her inseparable companion was an ill-tem- 
pered little poodle whom she kissed and caressed unceas- 
ingly and whose physical comfort seemed to be her sole 
care. The ever-barking little beast had a wardrobe trunk 
of its own and its toilet was changed two or three times 
a day. Its malicious little eyes partly hidden by long tufts 
of hair, adorned with pink, light-blue or red ribbons, ob- 
served carefully every one approaching its mistress. Be- 
sides a silver collar and a tail ribbon the little brute wore 
handsome covers of velvet and woolen goods, embroidered 
with the monogram of its owner, and when the deck was 
damp, its paws were encased in soft rubber shoes tied with 
silk ribbon^. It had a little bed of its own, and its ward- 
robe, as the young lady once proudly confided to me, con- 
tained among other things, warm nightgowns, costumes 
for visiting and, for cold weather, fur-lined plush covers 
and shoes. I suppressed on this occasion the temptation 
to ask whether the dear little creature also wore jewelry 
with its visiting suits, but I shouldn't wonder if the beast 
possessed golden toe rings and visiting cards among its 
outfit. 

I do not know why I had such a strong aversion against 



— 103 - 



this little animal, unless it be that I saw so much affection 
wasted on it by its mistress which many a young man 
with a taste for thin sylphids would have appreciated so 
much more. When I expressed this thought to Miss 
Anna she suspected that I myself was envious of the poo- 
dle, but I must confess that I have never been enthusiastic 




Turkish Passenger on S. S. "Nicholas II." 



about types of womanhood which threaten to break 
asunder at the waist and I solemnly affirm that there was 
no selfish desire at the bottom of my aversion. 

The other cabin passengers were of no special interest 
as they did not offer any material for study and observa- 



— 104 — 



tion. The two days which the trip from Piraeus to Alex- 
andria lasted, passed rapidly in conversing and reading, 
and the evenings in the salon were not less agreeable than 
the days spent on deck. Miss Elizabeth played the piano 
and sang, and although not gifted musically myself, I 
could be slightly useful, in that at her request I tried to 
teach her the correct pronunciation of the Italian song 
"Santa Lucia". When she began this song on the first 
evening out, she was accompanied by the dude-poodle's 
long-drawn howl. At the second rendition of the song, 
however, I stepped, seemingly inadvertently, on its tail, 
just as he was again taking his position next to the piano 
in order to begin anew his accompaniment. This hap- 
pened right after the first line : 

"Sul mare luccica V astro d'argentd" 
and I am sure the beast must have seen not only silver but 
golden stars, for he jumped with a painful yelp into the 
lap of his mistress where he remained for the rest of the 
evening, after having been affectionately consoled by her. 

The "Nicholas II" was to arrive in Alexandria early in 
the forenoon, but when we came on deck after breakfast 
on the day of arrival, the wide sea was still stretching 
unbounded before us. Not until two hours later did/a 
slight vapor line on the horizon indicate the flat coast we 
were approaching, and another hour passed before the two 
landmarks of Alexandria, the Pharus and the Column of 
Pompeii,became visible to the naked eye. One after the 
other, the white summer palace of the Khedive, the great 
stone molo and the long rows of buildings on the shore 
rose out of the waves, and when towards noon we steamed 
into the inner harbor, the graceful crowns of slender date 
palms bowed to us a first silent welcome to the land of the 
Pharaohs. 

We were, however, greeted quite differently and in a 



— 105 — 



much noiser manner when the steamer reached its landing 
place on the pier from where a horde of Arabs and negroes 
in long flowing gowns and a crowd of uniformed hotel 
agents, guides and traveling-bureau officials rushed on 
board to take possession of passengers and luggage. 
There was a mix-up of English, French, Italian, Greek 
and Arab, the like of which only the Tower of Babel may 
have seen. If the entrance into the harbor of Piraeus was 
scenically and historically more beautiful and interesting, 
it was certainly greatly surpassed from a picturesque 
point of view by the scenes on the landing quay of Alex- 
andria. A glance towards the pier revealed among the 
crowd gathered there all color shades in complexion and 
costumes. Western European dress alternated with the 
long gown, the turban and fez of the Arab and Copt. 
Ladies in modern toilets were standing next to Moham- 
medan women, of whose bourko-covered faces nothing but 
inquisitive, lustrous eyes were visible. English officers 
and soldiers in red coats with short canes were pushing- 
through the crowd, over which rose, here and there, the 
heads of tall negro soldiers of the Soudan in dark uni- 
forms. In the foreground the gold-embroidered costume 
of a consular dragoman was glittering conspicuously, and 
somewhat aside from the mass of people stood several 
carriages, the restless horses of which were watched by 
bare-legged "sais" in short, white skirt-trousers and gold- 
embroidered zouave jackets. The loud conversation of 
this crowd on the pier was partly drowned by the still 
noisier clamor and cursing of the "hammals," who, laden 
with trunks and bags, were pushing their way recklessly 
through the people towards the custom-house and the pub- 
lic vehicles. 

We regarded the picturesque groups on the shore for a 



— 106 — 



long time with great interest and allowed the first attack 
of carriers and hotel agents to pass by, before we en- 
trusted our luggage to one of the latter. Soon after we 
w^ere well and comfortably lodged at the Hotel Abbat on 
the Place de l'Eglise. 



VII. 



Alexandria. Old and New. — An Arab Funeral Pro- 
cession. — The Column of Pompey. — Egyptian Rail- 
ways. — From Alexandria to Cairo. — Factory 
Chimneys and Mosques; Electric Cars and Pyra- 
mids. 

Alexandria, the second largest city of the dark conti- 
nent, owes its foundation not, as is frequently believed, to 
the vanity of the Macedonian conqueror who thus wished 
to immortalize himself and erect a lasting monument of 
his campaign in Egypt. If we take into consideration 
its geographical situation, it will at once be clear that en- 
tirely different motives must have actuated the great ruler 
in founding this city on the western point of the Nile 
Delta. Alexander was surely far-seeing enough to judge 
at its true value the influence which a large seaport on 
this site was destined to have on the material and spiritual 
intercourse between Greece and the more secluded realm 
of the Pharaohs, and he had without doubt deeper motives, 
closely connected with the building up of the Greek world- 
empire which he planned. Alexander did not err, for soon 
after his death, even under the first Ptolemy, the city grew 
to great importance. At the time of Augustus it had a 
population of more than half a million, among whom the 
Greek element was always dominating. Like all cities of 
that period, Alexandria has seen its good and its bad days. 
At present it is of no special interest, and for the tourist 
the city forms onlv a point of transition from western 
civilization to the Orient. It is decidedly of semi-Euro- 
pean aspect. Among the 250,000 inhabitants nearly one- 



— 108 — 



fourth are Europeans, among whom, as in antiquity, the 
Greeks are most strongly represented. Since the rebuild- 
ing of Alexandria after the destructive bombardment by 
the English in 1882, its architecture has become thor- 
oughly modern, but it was once the theater of great his- 
torical happenings. It witnessed Caesar's grand triumphal 
entry after the assassination of Pompey, the magnificent 
feasts and orgies of Anthony and Cleopatra, and two of 
the greatest crimes of religious fanaticism, the stoning of 
Hypatia by a Christian mob, and the burning of the Alex- 
andrian library by a Mohammedan conqueror, facts that 
must forever lend a sentimental interest to the city. 

I should have preferred to leave for Cairo without a 
prolonged stay in Alexandria, which I had visited before, 
as it has by no means the magic charm possessed by such 
cities as Athens and Cairo, which one always likes to re- 
visit. But the friendly ties which had linked me to Mrs. 
C. . . .'s party induced me to remain, especially as it was 
only a day and a half the party intended to spend there. 
On the afternoon of our arrival we strolled through the 
Rue Cherif Pascha and the Rue Ibrahim, the two great 
modern thoroughfares, of the city, which, in their char- 
acter differ only slightly from those of European capitals, 
and visited in carriages the Arab quarters, which, on the 
other hand, are distinguished by filth and bad odors. The 
evening we spent in front of one of the numerous cafes 
on the Place Mehemet Ali. This large parallelogram of 
buildings, planted with shady trees, in the middle of which 
rises the equestrian statue of the founder of the present 
Khedivial Dynasty, forms the heart of the city. The 
houses composing it are all new and in modern style, since 
the former square, during the revolt of Arabi Pasha, was 
reduced to ashes, out of which it rose again like a Phoenix, 
new and rejuvenated. On pleasant evenings and Sunday 



— 109 — 



afternoons gay crowds surge here, sit in groups at small 
tables on the sidewalks, sip coffee and sherbet, listen to 
the music in the cafes, talk and laugh. The Place Me- 
hemet Ali is also the favorite rendezvous of strangers, 
and there is no better place in the city to study the char- 
acter of its Frank population. 




Monument of Mehemet Ali in Alexandria. 

During my first stay in Alexandria I had spent an in- 
teresting evening with Mr. Clark, the Oriental manager 
of the traveling-bureau of the same name, in the slums 
of the Arab quarters, which would be worth mentioning 
here were it not that I intend to introduce to the reader a 
similar quarter in Cairo which, from a moral point of 
view, is still more characteristic of native degradation. 



— 110 — 



The next morning saw us, mounted on gayly-capar- 
isoned donkeys, riding through the Rue de la Colonne and 
out at the Port du Nil on the way to the "Bumbus" col- 
umn, as our donkey boy called it. (I have noticed that 
the Arabs always pronounce the letter P like B.) While 
passing the large Arab cemetery situated outside of the 
gate, we encountered a funeral procession coming from 
the opposite direction. We stopped and allowed the pro- 
cession to pass. At the head of it were a number of men 
walking slowly, who chanted in incessant repetition the 
Islamitic confession of faith "Allah il Allah — Mohammed 
raz ul Allah" (there is no God but God, and Mohammed is 
his prophet). Following the singing men came several 
persons who, judging by their carriage and demeanor, 
must have been relatives of the deceased. Behind these 
mourners the bier was carried on the shoulders of four 
men who were relieved from time to time by others. Fol- 
lowing the coffin walked the most peculiar group of 
women imaginable. Some of them, with streaming hair, 
were moaning and weeping loudly, twisting blue kerchiefs 
over their heads and before their faces as if wringing 
floods of tears out of them, while others, evidently uttering 
only sham lamentations, were calling out at longer or 
shorter intervals praises of the dead. These were the 
professional mourners. It was the head of a family which 
was being buried, for the dirge, according to the interpre- 
tation of the guide, ran somewhat like this: "Oh, my 
lord, oh, my camel, thou hast left us ! Oh, my lion, oh, 
my glory, who will now take care of us !" This kind of 
lamenting may appear ridiculous to some, but to the Arabs 
the camel symbolizes the responsibility of the household 
and the greatest utility, while the lion is the symbol of 
protecting strength. Behind the hired mourners followed 
friends and acquaintances of the family and a number of 



— Ill — 



inquisitive idlers. The rear of the procession was formed 
by a number of half-naked children. The attention of 
these, however, was immediately detracted from the fu- 
neral when they caught sight of us, and when we moved 
on again after the procession had entered the cemetery, 
the whole baksheesh-seeking crowd followed us persist- 
ently until we reached the column of Pompey. 




An Arab Cemetery in Alexandria. 



The young ladies wanted to throw the importunate little 
beggars a few piastres. I prevented this in time, knowing 
by experience that such a proceeding would only make 
matters worse. Entire disregard of their clamoring and 
threats with the whip are the only remedy against the 
persistency of these young Egyptian gamins whose num- 



— 112 — 



ber, when a piastre is thrown them, grows mysteriously 
like an avalanche, before one has a chance to escape. 

We stood now at the foot of the heap of rubbish from 
which the great column, the only well-preserved monu- 
ment of ancient Alexandria, rises to a height of nearly 
one hundred feet. The assumption that this shaft has 
any connection whatever with the great Roman has been 
proven false long ago. Even the Roman Prefect Pom- 
pejus, who had erected a statue of the Emperor Dickletian 
on the top of it, has nothing to do with the origin of the 
column itself, which dates from a much older period. One 
would almost like to be deceived and regard this site as 
the authentical place on which Pompey fell under the dag- 
gers of his assassins, were it not too well known that this 
historical drama was enacted in Pelusium, and not in Alex- 
andria. With this undisputed fact the monument loses all 
the more in interest, since it does not even possess artistic 
merit. Neither do the lately discovered tombs at the foot 
of the pedestal nor the catacombs situated at a short dis- 
tance from it offer anything remarkable. Of the cele- 
brated Serapeum which is supposed to have been situated 
near the column of Pompey every trace has been lost. 
The old Pharus, at one time one of the seven wonders of 
the world, has been swallowed long ago by the waters of 
the Mediterranean and the new lighthouse does not even 
stand on the identical site. One may see that there is not 
much left for the archaeologist to admire in Alexandria. 

The collection of Graeco-Roman antiquities, however, 
is interesting enough if one has not yet seen the treasures 
of Gizeh. We visited the museum in the afternoon after 
having spent the rest of the morning in a ride along the 
beautiful shores of the Mahmudie Canal which connects 
Alexandria with the Nile, and in a stroll through the mag- 
nificent gardens belonging to the Greek merchant prince 



— 113 — 



Antoniades. The most interesting object to the ladies in 
the collection of antiquities proved to be a marble head of 
a woman with detachable wig which made it possible to 
follow the changes of style, and the debate about this bust 
was so lively that the other objects did not receive much 
attention. 

In the evening we had occasion to witness a ball in the 
hotel at which the brilliant uniforms of the English officers 
were most conspicuous, the charming representatives of 
the weaker sex and the few civilians being greatly in the 
minority. 

The following noon found us at the station, forty-five 
minutes ahead of time. In Egypt time is not money and 
if one has much luggage to attend to even an hour is not 
too much for the purpose of checking it and for buying 
the tickets. The ticket office, for example, is very fre- 
quently closed as early as ten to fifteen minutes before 
the departure of trains. It is also necessary to keep close 
watch on all luggage until it is checked, for the carriage 
hardly stops in front of the station before a rnob of ham- 
mals pounces upon it and drags it into the hall without 
paying any attention to protests, and only by having a 
good dragoman along one is sure of having everything 
properly attended to. 

As to the Egyptian trains, it is advisable to use only 
carriages of the first class. During my first sojourn in 
Egypt I was once induced to travel a short distance sec- 
ond-class, and the memory of that trip suffices even this 
day to ruffle my temper. It was a warm day and by arriv- 
ing early at the station I had secured a seat next to a win- 
dow. Soon after the car filled with a multitude of Arab and 
Greek merchants and farmers ,who were apparently carry- 
ing with them a large part of their merchandise and other 
belongings, for not only did they fill all the space under 



— 114 



the seats, in the aisle and on the racks above the benches 
with satchels, baskets, bags and bundles of all sorts, but 
most of the passengers carried pieces of luggage even in 
their laps. The conductor found it difficult to squeeze 
through all these obstacles when he came to control the 
tickets, but he seemed to be used to it and did not offer any 
objection whatever against this transformation of a pas- 
senger carriage into a freight car. Soon after the train 
started, satchels and bags were opened and it did not 
take very long before every little space on the floor, not 
otherwise occupied, was covered with paper, empty wine 
bottles, banana and orange peelings, bones and other rem- 
nants of eatables. The fine dust penetrating through the 
closed windows, the thick smoke of cigarettes, the odors 
of garlic and the sweaty evaporations from the passengers 
made the atmosphere in the car exceedingly foul. Luckily 
the trip was to last only two hours and I soon left my 
seat and remained standing near the half-open front door, 
preferring to breathe dust-laden but pure air. Another 
disagreeable peculiarity of traveling on Egyptian railroads 
is that the native passengers, even of the third-class, are 
permitted during a journey to walk through all the cars, 
from one end of the train to the other in order to satisfy 
their curiosity, which goes so far that they even open the 
closed compartments of the first-class and put their heads 
in to see what is going on. Once I witnessed how on such 
an occasion a German traveler, provoked by the constant 
disturbance, crushed a finger of one of these inquisitive 
Arabs by the violent slamming of the compartment door. 
If the dusky fellow had not rapidly withdrawn his head 
he probably would have been guillotined. As it was, a 
few piastres proved a healing salve for his wounded finger 
and feelings. 

The fast train, which we used this time, was not over- 



— 115 - 



crowded, and since the dust at this season of the year is not 
very annoying, we could enjoy the view of the rapidly- 
passing landscape. Soon after leaving Alexandria the 
road crosses the Mahmudie Canal, the southern shore of 
which it follows from there to Damanhur. At the right 
and left of the embankments stretch large surfaces of 




Arab Family. 

apparently shallow water, one of which is Lake Abukir 
and the other the "Beheret Maryut" of the Arabs. Far- 
ther on come squalid Fellah villages, the dirty adobe huts 
of which are surmounted by graceful date palms. In the 
shadow of the hovels women and children are lazily squat- 
ting. In the cotton fields nearby the peasants stop wotk- 



— 116 — 



ing to look at the passing train, while motionless donkeys 
stand listlessly in the sun, blinking their eyes. Most pic- 
turesque of all are the numerous files of camels carrying 
heavy loads along the dams and embankments, and which 
are, like silhouettes, sharply delineated against the blue 
sky. Altogether the landscape is of no special interest, 
being rather monotonous, but to the traveler who pene- 
trates into Egypt for the first time, it offers a peculiar 
charm on account of its characteristic novelty. 

There are only two large stations on the line between 
Alexandria and Cairo — Damanhur, the ancient city of 
Horus, and Tantah. The view of Damanhur, the houses 
and mosques of which stand upon a hill, would be very 
picturesque were it not that several factory chimneys, ris- 
ing among the minarets, spoil the otherwise harmonious 
ensemble. Such industrial establishments together with 
modern methods of transportation often disturb the effect 
of an Egyptian landscape, just as the general progress of 
civilization in all classical countries flooded by the stream 
of tourists, frequently destroys the expected charm of the 
most venerable sites and monuments. On the other hand, 
it cannot be denied that many of these innovations have 
added essentially to the material comfort of pleasure- 
seekers. In reality, it is only sentiment which suffers, 
and the great majority of tourists are rather indifferent as 
to whether they reach the Pyramids by an electric tram- 
way, or Karnak by railroad, as long as they get there 
quickly and comfortably. Most of them, in fact, prefer the 
modern way of transportation to the donkey, the camel and 
the dahabieh. 

After a journey of three hours and a half, the express 
train arrives in Cairo. The station is modern and the 
arrival of the train is, as usually, awaited by numerous 
hotel agents, porters, interpreters and carriers, wrangling 



- 117 — 



with each other about the travelers and their luggage. 
The competition is especially keen between the first-named, 
and if one has not chosen his hotel in advance, one is apt 
to be so confused by the exaggerated laudings of the 
various hostelries that it becomes hard to make a choice. 
If necessary, the agents underbid each other in prices and 
in this way it happens frequently that, between the quar- 
reling parties, the onlooker, in this case the passenger, is 
the beneficiary. The ladies were inclined to go to the well- 
known, but at this season generally over-crowded, Shep- 
heard Hotel. However, they followed my advice and 
selected, at least for the first period of their sojourn in 
Cairo, the Eden Palace Hotel, a new, but excellent house 
opposite the Esbekieh Garden, with the proprietor of 
which I was personally acquainted. 



VIII. 



Cairo. — Tobey and Jim Corbett. — Streets and Types. 
— Egyptian Peddlers. — In the Bazaar. — Hotel 
Conditions. — The Fish Market, a Sink of In- 
iquity. — Arab Story-Tellers. — Dervishes. — Relig- 
ious Humbug. 

The morning after our arrival in Cairo I started out for 
the Place de l'Opera, where I expected to find my old 
friend Tobey at the foot of the equestrian statue of Ibra- 
him Pasha. My expectation was more than realized, since 
I found not only Tobey at his usual stand, but also our 
mutual friend "Jim Corbett." This I had hardly dared 
to hope. But while Tobey's eyes were lighting up at the 
sight of me, and he was grasping my hands with every 
sign of honest pleasure, Jim remained perfectly apathetic, 
not even a motion of his long ears at the sound of my 
voice as I greeted him betraying that he remembered me. 
The ingrate! How often had I treated him to a juicy 
stick of sugar-cane in order to keep up his moral courage 
when I noticed during one of our excursions in the city 
or its environs that he had become fatigued ! It was quite 
different with Tobey. He certainly remembered very well 
the generous baksheesh which I had slipped into his hand 
at my last departure. But Tobey was a man, even if only 
a simple donkey boy, while Jim Corbett was nothing more 
than an ordinary jackass. But I am doing injustice to 
both; Tobey was not a donkey boy like the rest of his 
turbaned and long-gowned comrades, and Jim was quite 
an extraordinary ass. 

It may interest the reader to know how and where I 



— 119 — 



had made the acquaintance of this inseparable pair. Dur- 
ing my last sojourn in Cairo I stood one day on the same 
spot at the foot of the Ibrahim monument negotiating with 
several of the donkey boys, who have their regular stands 
there, about an excursion to Heliopolis. None of the 
animals, however, came up to my requirements. While 
I still hesitated, trying to make the boys understand that 




View of Cairo. 



I needed a larger and stronger donkey, one of them called 
out in broken English, as he pointed to a rider coming in 
full gallop out of the Sharia el Maghrabi : "Here come 
Tobey — him good donkey!'' The galloping donkey boy 
pulled up his animal in front of me and swung himself 
out of the saddle. He was about twenty-one years old. 
and his features betrayed considerably more intelligence 
than those of his comrades. His donkey was a strong, 



— 120 — 



handsome animal and its white coat showed, on the upper 
hind and front legs, in excellent drawing, the designs 
made by means of a razor, which are so dear to the heart 
of the Cairo donkey boys. Its saddle and other trappings 
were also in the best of order. Tobey grasped the situa- 
tion immediately and turning to me he said in quaintly 
broken English : 

"Master, take my donkey — Jim Corbett best donkey in 
Cairo." 

Then, looking at me closer, he continued in great sur- 
prise : "Oh ! — you, Chicago man — I know you ! — You not 
know me?" 

"No," I answered, surprised to be recognised as a 
Chicagoan. 

"What," said he, "you not know Tobey, — donkey boy 
from 'Streets of Cairo' in Chicago 'Expedition'?" 

Now everything became clear to me. During the Col- 
umbian Exposition in Chicago my vocation had called me 
almost daily to the Midway Plaisance, and very frequently 
to the "Streets of Cairo," and my physiognomy had be- 
come so familiar to the then very youthful donkey boy 
whom, with other natives, the managers had brought to 
America, that he recalled it after a lapse of more than five 
years. I also remembered him now and the natural conse- 
quence of our meeting again was that I engaged his and 
Jim Corbett's services exclusively during the rest of my 
sojourn in Cairo whenever I needed a donkey. 

Jim Corbett had many good qualities, but, just as strong 
lights throw strong shadows, so he had a peculiarity 
which almost obscured all his other virtues. This great 
shortcoming was a most terrifying bray whenever he met 
a charming representative of the weaker donkey sex. If 
the latter was especially attractive, he even stopped short 
and brayed until she had disappeared from view. All 



— 121 — 



urging and lashing in such a case was in vain ; Jim's gal- 
lant heart helped him to endure pain and insult with 
equanimity. I generally pardoned him gladly, because 
after such a serenade he usually made up for lost time by 
a double-quick gate. But one day my patience reached an 
end when he attracted the attention of the hotel guests 
on Shepheard's terrace by one of his sonorous love songs, 
while Tobey and I, by whip and boot, tried in vain to 
get him into motion. From then on I mounted Jim Cor- 
bett only outside the European quarter and only my re- 
gard for Tobey induced me to ride him at all. 

All this was now forgotten in the joy of our meeting 
each other once more, and I again engaged the services of 
both with the order to Tobey (his real name was Moham- 
med) to secure six more donkeys, upon which our party 
intended the same day to visit the Arab quarters and the 
Bazaars. 

In latter years, the donkey boy and his animal have lost 
much of their former popularity with Egyptian tourists, 
and the public carriages, which have largely usurped his 
place, almost threaten his existence. There is, however, 
no better means of transportation if one wishes to famil- 
iarize himself with the interesting life in the narrow, slip- 
pery streets of the native quarters which may not very well 
be explored afoot and which are not wide enough for 
carriages. 

The ladies were ready when, after an interval of half 
an hour, Tobey appeared in front of the hotel with the 
necessary donkeys and boys. Billy, who admired the 
looks of Jim Corbett very much, begged me for permis- 
sion to mount him. I gladly agreed to this, selecting for 
myself a big animal called "Moses,'' while the ladies re- 
spectively mounted "McKinley," "John L. Sullivan," 
"Mary Anderson," "Gladstone" and "Little Moses/' 



— 122 — 



Upon the patient backs of these donkeys with the great 
names, we were soon transported into the midst of the 
picturesque throngs of the Arab quarters near the bazaars. 

The same vivid impressions which I had received dur- 
ing my first sojourn in Cairo forced themselves again 
upon me. It was as though I had for the first time 
stepped out of the hotel and found myself after a short 
walk in the "Muski" and its side streets, surrounded by 
that intensely Oriental and noisy street life which im- 
presses the stranger so forcibly that he can never forget it. 
The modern quarters of Cairo are very handsome, and the 
gay multitudes in front of the great hotels of the Sharia 
Kamel Pasha and elsewhere in the neighborhood of the 
Esbekieh, are interesting and full of color; but modern 
architecture and the strong mixture of western life de- 
stroy here the thoroughly Oriental character which is so 
conspicuously perceived in the native parts of the city. 
Passing through the latter, one feels himself transposed 
back to the time of Harun al Rashid and many of the 
types encountered here remind one strongly of the pic- 
turesque characters in the "Arabian Nights." The roar 
of the streets, above which only a narrow stripe of blue 
sky is visible, and which are not unlike deep, dark can- 
yons, is ear-splitting and the teeming life in them is com- 
pletely bewildering. Men and women on foot, on horse- 
back and on donkeys, heavily-laden camels, hand-carts and 
other vehicles, crowd each other, and the warning yells of 
drivers, the braying of donkeys, the roaring of camels, 
and the monotonous cries of numerous peddlers are mixed 
in such a chaos of noises as to make the place appear a 
veritable Bedlam. One gets so thoroughly bewildered at 
first that it takes quite a while before one is able to dis- 
tinguish the details and to take in all the new and surpris- 
ing sights of the animated picture, 



— 123 — 



The most interesting figures in this throng, although 
in large minority, are the Arab women, clad generally in 
loose, sombre garments, with faces covered by black 
"Bourkos" (heavy veils) which frequently reach to the 
ground and are fastened over the bridge of the nose to a 
fillet by means of a brass or wooden ornament. They 
appear still more picturesque when seen carrying on one 




Invitation to an Arab Wedding. 

shoulder a naked child in straddling position or balancing 
an earthen vessel of graceful shape upon their heads. 
Very numerous are the "Hemali," venders of a cooling 
beverage perfumed with orange blossoms, which is sold 
from a large brass-ornamented vessel carried usually upon 
the back. The water sellers, "Sakki/' also carry their 
goat-skins upon the back like they did in the time of 



— 124 — 



Abraham. This type, however, is doomed to extinction 
in the city, since the modern conduits are already supply- 
ing with good water even the poorer native quarters 
where public drinking spouts have been established in 
many streets. 

The peddlers of fruits, vegetables, sweet-meats, and the 
proprietors of itinerant kitchens may be heard everywhere. 
Their cries sometimes are in musical cadence, and they 
often recommend their goods to the public in very poetic 
language. Thus, Tobey translated to us the cries of a 
fruit peddler as follows : "Figs, figs, sweet figs ! Sweeter 
than fresh cream ! — Oranges ! Figs ! — True angels* food, 
full of honey ! — Restores the health of the sick !" In one 
of the suburbs one day we heard a comical cry by a man 
who did not carry any goods whatever with him. It was 
a butcher, and what he cried out was this : "To-morrow, 
people, I am going to kill a young camel. Its flesh will 
be tender and sweet like that of a lamb ! — Whoever eats 
of it will be satisfied ! — If you like sweet, young camel's 
flesh, come early! — The pound costs only three little 
piastres !" 

The odors from the various cooking establishments are 
not very tempting; neither are the dishes offered for sale 
by them; and if one sees their patrons standing in the 
street or squatting against a wall, eagerly devouring an 
unappetizing dish of "Pilaf" or fish, one says involun- 
tarily, "de gustibiis non est dispntandum." 

Among the tradesmen who conduct their business in 
small open shops or "al fresco" under a canvas shade, 
tailors and cobblers predominate. There are also many 
blacksmiths, tinsmiths, weavers, bakers, wood turners, and 
last, but not least, barbers. It is quite amusing to watch 
the latter shave the pates of their customers until they 
shine like billiard balls. Some of the tools used by these 



— 125 — 



craftsmen would astonish their European brethren, as they 
frequently belong to a period dating back for centuries. 

The costume of all these people is a long gown open 
at the breast, and their head-gear is the turban of various 
colors. Most frequently the white turban is seen. The 
right to wear this belongs exclusively to the descendants 
of the prophet. The Mecca pilgrims are distinguished by 
a green roll of cloth, while Copts and Jews generally wear 
black turbans and are otherwise clad in dark colors. The 
Mohammedan clergy, the "Ulemas," are distinguishable 
by a higher turban, the folds of which are rolled very 
regularly. 

The sight of this teeming life afforded great pleasure 
to the ladies, who were so charmed by its novelty that we 
proceeded but slowly, as they frequently insisted on stop- 
ping. We had lost Billy several times out of sight, but 
this was not so much his fault as that of the gallant Jim 
Corbett. Reaching the bazaars at last, we dismounted and 
entered on foot. The exceedingly narrow streets spanned 
by awnings are hardly wide enough for two or three 
people to pass abreast. The wares exhibited here, as well 
as the booths and workshops of the merchants, can hardly 
be likened to the magnificence of the great bazaar of Con- 
stantinople, but the life is incomparably more picturesque 
and interesting. The keen eye of the shrewd disciples of 
Mercury had soon discovered the inexperience of our 
young people, who, stopping before every shop and pric- 
ing everything, were only too easily tempted to purchase. 
More than once I had to interfere in order to prevent the 
young ladies from buying things at a price which repre- 
sented five times the amount of their real value. This nat- 
urally brought down on me the wrath of the eager mer- 
chants, and even Tobey, who, as I knew, received a com- 
mission on every purchase, was not quite pleased with 



— 126 — 



me. In spite of his extended travels and experience, he 
was still Oriental enough to regard the cheating of a cus- 
tomer, especially if it be an infidel, as a laudable act. 

Towards noon we returned to our hotel. Regarding the 
latter it is perhaps just to state that our accommodations 
left almost nothing to be desired. With few exceptions 
the hotels in Cairo and other places in Egypt frequented 
by tourists are excellent enough to satisfy the most fas- 
tidious requirements. The cooking in general is French, 
plentiful and good. The rooms are large and comfortably 
furnished and the service exceedingly efficient. The 
waiters and other servants, excepting a few European 
chambermaids, the services of which are exclusively re- 
served for female guests, are all Arabs, who wear a livery 
of white Turkish trousers, short embroidered jackets and 
the tarbush. 

With such favorable chances of accommodation and 
with the fine weather which prevails in Cairo from No- 
- vember until the middle of March, it is not astonishing 
that the city has in latter years become the cosmopolitan 
Mecca of reconvalescents, pleasure-seekers and other tour* 
ists, who are attracted here not so much by the classic 
soil and the grand monuments of antiquity, as by the 
modern health resort atmosphere. To such guests Cairo 
offers sufficient attractions to make a winter's sojourn 
pleasant and not at all tedious. The Esbekieh Garden, a 
fine park in the center of the city and in the immediate 
vicinity of the hotels, contains a summer theater, cafes 
and restaurants, but it is not sufficiently appreciated by 
the majority of strangers who prefer to spend their after- 
noons on the terrace of the Shepheard Hotel instead of 
enjoying the shady walks and the music of the Egyptian 
or English military bands in the park. Opera, balls, re- 
ceptions and other amusements, good public carriages and 



— 127 - 



electric street cars add their share to the comforts of such 
travelers as cannot exist without the pleasures and advan- 
tages of Western civilization. 

However, one may be really sorry for those fashionable 
sojourners who come here only to spend their days drink- 
ing tea in the hotel gardens, taking carriage rides to Shu- 
bra and the Gezireh Palace Hotel and pass their evenings 
at the opera or receptions instead of submerging them- 
selves in this strangely interesting life, where one sees 
and learns something new every day. With a daily chance 
of admiring and studying the many magnificent Arab 
mosques and other gems of architecture, and above all, 
the priceless archaeological treasures of the Gizeh mu- 
seum, it is a sin not to do so. Although it is hard to 
believe that any visitor of Cairo should miss seeing the 
Sphinx and the Pyramids, yet there are such men. Thus, 
I once met a Frenchman who had stayed several days in 
Cairo and had departed without having seen those grand 
monuments of the past. But he related with great pleas- 
ure his daily visits to the beautiful Gezireh Hotel, on the 
terrace of which he had spent every afternoon admiring 
the handsome ladies who gather there for 5 o'clock tea. 
He had also seen the fish market. 

This quarter, which has been mentioned before, is well 
worth seeing, but only for such as like to get acquainted 
with the lowest strata of the population and its depths of 
moral degeneration. There are similar quarters in the 
capitals and great seaports of many countries in Europe, 
Asia and America, but nowhere can be seen anything to 
approach even distantly the awful iniquity and repulsive 
vice which is exhibited in the crooked and narrow streets 
of the fish market. During the day this quarter is almost 
forsaken. Its population, especially that of the female 
sex, has withdrawn to their noisome lairs and one may 



— 128 — 



only occasionally see a few loafing- Arabs or a drunken 
English soldier staggering from one low dive to the other 
until the powdered and painted "decoy birds" in the latter, 
which belong to the lowest scum of European prostitution, 
have relieved him of his last piastre. 

In the evening the locked doors and the grated window 
shutters on the ground floor are opened. Behind these the 
most hideous human creatures of the female sex exhibit 
themselves in cage-like recesses, seated upon tattered rugs, 
smoking cigarettes, chatting with each other, and grinning 
at the passersby. These are, throughout, Arab and negro 
women, with complexions shading from the lightest brown 
to the deepest black, and their faces, which bear the most 
pronounced stamp of vice, make them appear behind the 
heavy iron gratings like animals exhibited for show in a 
menagerie. Out of the low cafes and drinking places 
issue the monotonous sounds of Arab musical instruments, 
and through the open doors one may observe the female 
dancers closely surrounded by motley spectators. There is 
no stage exhibition and the performers frequently appear 
dancing before the door for the purpose of attracting vis- 
itors. From the windows of the upper stories are leaning 
black and brown, old and young sirens and their shameless 
invitations are extended to the inquisitive tourist as well 
as to the dirty Fellah, sinister-looking Bedouin, the red- 
coated soldier, the donkey boys, and all the Arab loafers 
of which the majority of the throng in the streets consists. 
To resist the charm of these sirens it is, -however, not ne- 
cessary to have oneself securely chained down, as Ulysses 
and his comrades found it advisable to do. There is no 
danger whatever. The sirens are anything but tempting. 

The interiors of the houses into which one may freely 
enter are just as filthy and noisome as are the holes which 
can be : observed from the street. Very conspicuous is the 



— 129 — 



large number of children and half-grown boys which form 
a part of the multitude and which generally crowd to 
those places where the moral atmosphere is least fitting 
for them. The few native policemen, who move about 
unconcernedly in the streets, do not pay any attention 
whatever to these revolting conditions, and they interfere 
only in case of personal encounters between natives. Such, 




Banyan Tree in the xisbekieh Garden, Cairo. 



however, occur very rarely, since the Egyptian 'Arabs, 
although they will quarrel for hours, hurl the vilest insults 
at each other and twirl their canes threateningly before 
the faces of an adversary, hardly ever get to blows. 

It is strange that the English government, which alone 
is responsible for the astonishing progress and the sub- 
stantial improvements which have made Egypt a civilized 



— 130 — 



nation and have transformed Cairo into a beautiful, half- 
modern city, allows this sink-hole of iniquity and shame 
to exist in its present form. The sole explanation to be 
found for this is that for the sake of greater political ob- 
jects to be achieved, like in India, the .government is not 
willing to disturb the religious and moral life of the 
natives. This may be good statesmanship and good pol- 
icy, but, after all, perhaps something could be done to 
cover up, at least, the worst phase of these degrading con- 
ditions, the perversity of vice, if it is impossible to eradi- 
cate it. Here, missionaries of Christianity, is work for 
you more laudable to undertake than the saving of inno- 
cent heathen souls ! 

As hundreds of years ago, so to-day, the numerous 
"shoara'' or public story-tellers are still popular in Cairo, 
and the people crowd around them on the streets or in the 
cafes as in the times of Sultan Saladin, listening with in- 
tense rapture to the tales of adventure, love and obscenity 
which they narrate. The performance of such a "sha-ir," 
a real type from the "Arabian Nights," with large turban 
and long white beard, we attended one night in an Arab 
cafe which we had entered under the leadership of Tobey. 
The crowd was listening with great attention to the nar- 
rator, who was frequently interrupted by applauding cries 
of "Allahu Akbar !" at which occasion the musician seated 
next to the sha-ir thumped his "darabuke" most energet- 
ically. We tried to have the story interpreted for us by 
Tobey, but he was so absorbed in listening that he paid no 
attention to our request. "I tell you by um by," was all he 
would say and not until the narrator had finished and 
Tobey had yelled himself almost hoarse, together with 
the rest of the audience, could we induce him to give us 
a synopsis of the story. The hero of it was a Moham- 
medan youth who had experienced countless bloody ad- 



— 131 — 



ventures with heathens and Christians, in the course of 
which he always emerged as victor, not only in single 
combat but often against overwhelming numbers of 
enemies, killing hundreds of infidels. The frequent 
"Allahu Akbar" cries by which the sha-ir was interrupted, 
accentuated always the death of one or more of the 
heathen or Christian dogs. The pleased audiences do not 
tire of listening the whole evening with undiminished at- 
tention to the frequent repetitions of such a story. 

Almost every one has heard of the howling dervishes 
whose exercises may be witnessed in Cairo every Friday 
afternoon against payment of an admission fee. These 
exhibitions are of peculiar interest to the spectator al- 
though one is somewhat puzzled as to whether the ecstasy 
is genuine or not into which the dervishes seemingly work 
themselves by violent motions of the upper body and 
head and through incessant repetitions of the Islamatic 
confession of faith culminating in rapidly uttered "Hoo ! — 
Hoo!" cries. Apparently it is no sham, for sometimes a 
howling dervish, with foaming mouth, will drop down in 
convulsions, in which case, however, the others do not 
concern themselves about him but keep on with their per- 
formances. Incomparably more interesting was the spec- 
ial exhibition of an 'Tlwan'' dervish which we witnessed 
one evening in a small room of an old house in the Arab 
quarter. After this fellow had worked himself, by move- 
ments similar to those of the howling dervishes, into the 
necessary state of ecstasy, he wrapped himself amid con- 
tinuous gyrations in a burning sheet, allowing the flames 
to lick his half-naked body. Following this he gulped 
down the contents of a glass filled half with water and 
half with oil, on the surface of which a burning wick was 
floating, and finally, between his teeth, crushed the tum- 
bler to powder which he swallowed with awful grimaces. 



— 132 — 



During this procedure the blood was running out of the 
corners of his mouth. After he had further swallowed a 
couple of glowing coals and had tried to gouge out his 
eyes with a large wire nail, we became disgusted with the 
performance and left. 

The pious traveler who comes to Egypt full of gulli- 
bility and religious sentiment will find frequent occasion 
to gain pleasure and satisfaction at the view of sites alleg- 
edly connected with events related in the Bible and the 
New Testament. One has certainly to be Paul and not 
Saul if one is to descend with religious awe to the bottom 
of Joseph's Well in the Cairo citadel, which is sometimes 
pointed out as the identical shaft into which Joseph had 
been thrown by his brothers, and again as the dungeon in 
which the wife of Potiphar is said to have tempted the 
future originator of grain corners. 

Another biblio-historical site is the so-called "Well of 
Moses," situated in the Mokattam Hills at a short distance 
from the city, and in the vicinity of which the Jewish law- 
giver is said to have herded the sheep of his father-in-law, 
Jethro. This site, however, must at that distant period 
have had quite a different aspect, for besides a rocky cleft 
filled with water, there is at present nothing to be seen 
that would furnish nourishment even for a single rabbit, 
much less for a herd of sheep. For miles around no blade 
of grass, no tree or shrub grows upon the rock and yellow 
sand. 

During a visit to the Isle of Rhoda, where the interest- 
ing Nile meter may be seen, and where stands the rag- 
covered miraculous tree of the holy "Mandura" to whom 
the Mohammedan sick, praying for health, offer their 
bandages, the identical spot on the Nile shore was pointed 
out to us where the baby Moses had been found in the 



— 133 — 



bullrushes by the daughter of Pharaoh. What hoary mem- 
ories ! 

Making an excursion to Heliopolis to see the only obe- 
lisk in lower Egypt which still stands on its original site, 
one passes the small village of Matariye. In a garden 
facing the road stands the so-called Tree of St. Mary, in 




The Pyramids of Gizeh. 



the shade of which the Holy Virgin with the Christ-child 
is said to have rested on her flight to Egypt. But it takes 
considerable religious faith to connect this sycamore with 
the mother of the Saviour, and one would have to deduct 
from our calendar at least 1 500 years to be able to imagine 
that it ever offered protection to her and the Child. The 



— 134 — 



tree can, at the utmost, be 300 years old, even though its 
mutilated trunk and gnarled branches, which are now sur- 
rounded by a protecting fence, make it perhaps appear 
older. The origin of the pious legend may possibly be 
sought in the circumstance that the well from which this 
garden is irrigated furnishes sweet and cool water, while 
the other wells in the vicinity are strongly saline. Blessed 
are they that believe ! 



IX. 



The Mummies of the Pharaohs. — American Push in 
Egypt. — On the Top of Cheops' Pyramid. — Mark 
Twain. — An Adventure in the Bowels of the 
Pyramid. — Achmed. — The Site of Memphis. — Ach- 
med's Sacrifice. — The Tomb of Ti. — The Apis 
Tombs. 

Interesting as modern Egypt is, — and one may get ac- 
quainted with it in Cairo from all points of view, — it is 
still without doubt the ancient relics and monuments from 
the time of the Pharaohs, the mute witnesses of an old and 
highly developed culture which form the strongest attrac- 
tion for the majority of the strangers sojourning here. 
Nowhere may the history and development of the mysteri- 
ous Egyptian people be studied so well as in the magnifi- 
cent museum of Gizeh, which shelters under its roof treas- 
ures the like of which no other institution of the same kind 
can boast. 

This open book of Egyptian history which here unfolds 
its leaves in more than eighty rooms contains so much 
that it would take months to get acquainted with its entire 
contents. The grand collection is housed in an erstwhile 
palace of Ismail Pasha, situated in a small park half-way 
on the road to the Pyramids. In front of the great en- 
trance stands upon an elevated postament the sarcophagus 
of Mariette, the French Egyptologist who was the founder 
of the museum. It seems as if his body still stands guard 
over the treasures which he took from the ancient ground 
with so much zeal and effort. 

Only with the deepest reverence may one walk through 



— 136 - 



these halls, the contents of which transpose the visitor 
back thousands of years, offering a clear insight into the 
religious, artistic and domestic life of the ancient Egyp- 
tians. It is a peculiar feeling that overcomes one at the 
view of the simplest objects exhibited in these rooms, such 
as chairs, bedsteads and other household articles which 
were in daily use more than four thousand years ago. One 
regards with the greatest interest the finely wrought 
pieces of jewelry which once adorned the body of a daugh- 
ter of the Pharaohs, whose mummy is exhibited in an 
adjoining room. Groups of small, artistically carved, wood- 
en soldiers allow the presumption that they may have 
served as toys for a royal boy, who perhaps later was lead- 
ing great armies to victory. The numerous closed sarcoph- 
agi of Egyptian rulers and other personages set one off in 
a reverie and the mind becomes overwhelmed by thoughts 
in the hall where, in glass cases, are lying, freed of their 
bandages, five kings of the XVIII and XIX dynasties, the 
glory of whom was once ringing through the ancient 
world, and whose features can be regarded only with 
sacred awe. What names these are ! "Amenophis I, Toth- 
mes I, Tothmes II, Rameses II, the great Sesostris, 
Rameses III." The bodies are fairly well preserved, but 
how long they will continue to remain so is questionable. 
One can well understand the curiosity of the Khedive 
Tewfik Pasha, who had these mummies unwrapped in 
order to see face to face the bodies of the great rulers, the 
finding of which in the tombs of Dar el Bahri caused such 
tremendous sensation in the scientific world, but it is 
nevertheless a profanation to exhibit them in this manner. 
How long will it be ere the work of dissolution stemmed 
by the embalming art of the ancient Egyptians, will be 
complete and the world deprived of the most costly treas- 
ures which the museum of Gizeh contains ? 



— 137 — 



The view of these royal mummies inspired me to the 
following effort : 

"A museum's lofty hall contains. 

Bedecked with grime and dust, 
The mummy of a Pharaoh, 

Millenniums old, I trust, 




The Mummy of Rameses II. 

And daily pass before its shrine, 

Irreverent and loud, 
A multitude of thoughtless men, 

An idle, noiseful crowd. 
But rarely does one contemplate 

The ancient mummy there ; 
And of attention it receives 

But very slight a share : 



— 138 — 



For swathed in his linen straps, 

The king lies dead and cold, 
And rags are cov'ring now the limbs 

That glittered once with gold. 
And yet in ages gone and past 

He ruled a country fair ; 
His royal word was then a law 

Obeyed with zealous care. 
Like Isis and Osiris was 

He feared in all the land, 
And stillness reigned when he waved 

His mighty royal hand. 

Before his spear and valiant arm 

Fell city, fort and town, 
And conquered foes in many lands 

Did tremble at his frown. 
When death, at last, had conquered him 

They built a pyramid 
In which for all eternity 

His royal corpse was hid. 
Alas ! the cruel hand of fate 

Has dragged him from his tomb ; 
To be exposed to stares profane 

Is now his ruthless doom." 

While these royal bodies slowly but surely approach 
their complete dissolution, numberless generations will 
still look up to the dizzy heights of the gigantic pyramids 
which their ancestors of the IV dynasty, Cheops, Chefren, 
and Mencheres, built even centuries before them. It is 
too bad that these monuments of a hoary past may be 
reached to-day in such an easy and comfortable manner. 
An electric tramway — horribile dictu! — leads almost to 
the foot of the great Pyramid, in the shadow of which 
stands a modern hotel, the Mena House, where one may 
dine table d'hote for five francs per person. It is sure that 
if the Pyramids were at a greater distance from Cairo 
and were not to be reached by modern means of trans- 



— 139 — 



portation, the first impression at their sight would be 
greater than it is. When I saw them for the first time I 
had driven out in a carriage, and I shall never forget the 
circumstance which spoiled the impression of my first 
view. Walking up the road which leads from the Mena 
House to the plateau of the desert, I noticed a small 



r 

k 




American Enterprise. 

camel caravan being photographed there with the Cheops 
Pyramid as a background. The animals were laden with 
cases, and great white blankets hanging down their sides 
showed in large letters the words : "Drink Schlitz beer, 
the beer that made Milwaukee famous." 

Although disagreeably impressed by this desecration, I 
had to smile at the Yankee business spirit, which knows 



— 140 — 



how to get advertisement even out of the Pyramids, and 
I was only wondering that the enterprising advertising 
agent had not made his legend read as follows : "Drink 
Schlitz beer, the beer that Cheops drank." 

I had a somewhat similar experience during my present 
trip, when one week later I noticed in the vicinity of the 
Temple of Luxor a bicycle advertisement reading as fol- 
lows : "Ride a Monarch and keep in front.'' This time it 
was a Chicago firm which was advertising its goods in 
Upper Egypt, and I really saw an Arab who was riding 
one of their wheels on the way from Luxor to Karnak. I 
was wondering just as much about this circumstance as 
about the fact that the bare-footed fellow was able to 
propel his machine, which was equipped with rat-trap 
pedals, upon the sandy road without lacerating his feet. 

Unlike last year, I came this time to the Pyramids on 
foot. Not that I had made the whole way from Cairo 
"per pedes apostolorum." I had been invited by a Greek 
friend to an automobile excursion to the Mena House, 
and he had, at my request, been amiable enough to include 
Miss Elizabeth and Miss Anna in the invitation. But we 
had bad luck. A part of the motor got out of order when 
we were still more than a mile from the Pyramids, and in 
order to accomplish the ascent of old Cheops which the 
ladies had planned, we were compelled to leave the auto- 
mobile and its owner to their fate. We heard later that 
the vehicle had to be brought back to town by means of 
horses. We had, therefore, to walk the rest of the way, 
greatly to the regret of the two young ladies, who would 
have liked to arrive at the Pyramids in the latest style. 
The rest of our party had arrived before us, and we found 
Billy already engaged in a scuffle with the Bedouins of 
the Pyramid, who tried to get bodily hold of his person 
for the ascent. Soon everything was arranged, and with 



— 141 — 



the exception of Mrs. C. . . ., who followed the climbers 
with a field glass from her carriage, and myself, who had 
mounted the Pyramids before, the whole party started 
upwards. 

Although one is pulled by two Bedouins, who take hold 
of the hands, and pushed by another one from the rear, 
the exertion of mounting is such as to be felt for days 
after in all the limbs. The descent is, according to my 
experience, still more fatiguing, since one cannot employ 
the help of the Bedouins to the same extent. To avoid 
reducing the clothes to tatters by sliding over the rough 
stones one has to jump the yard-high steps. A stout 
English lady of my acquaintance, after making the ascent, 
had to remain two days in bed, and was compelled for a 
week after to support herself by a cane in walking. I 
also remember the lameness of my own lower limbs, which 
made itself painfully noticeable for several days, especially 
on descending a stairway. 

As I was following with my eyes the young ladies, I 
vividly remembered my own descent the year before, and 
recalled all the impressions I had then received. Approach- 
ing, at that time, the Pyramid group of Gizeh, they seemed 
to me from a distance less gigantic, by far, than they 
appeared after I had reached the foot of the first one and 
looked up to the top along one of its inclined sides. I 
believe that this first disappointing impression is caused 
by the lack of an object of comparison. A fairly correct 
idea of the astonishing size of the Cheops Pyramid is 
received if one stops about half way to the top and takes, 
for several minutes, an eye measure upwards of the re- 
maining part of the ascent, as well as downwards of the 
distance covered. The fatigue which one feels makes the 
top appear still higher than it is, and the small human 
beings at the foot and the dwarfed appearance of the Mena 



— 142 — 



Hotel, which looks like a modest little house, make it 
clear that one is well up in the air. The triangular surface 
on which you are seated is so great that not only do the 
people climbing about on it appear like insects, but you 
feel like one yourself. After reaching the top, which is 
surmounted by a flag-staff, you think yourself far re- 
moved from the earth, and only then the true gigantic 
size of this most remarkable of all monuments reveals 
itself to the eye and mind. 

The point of the Pyramid, as well as its former smooth 
outer mantle, disappeared centuries ago, and the small 
platform at the top can now hold a dozen people comfort- 
ably. The great stones are covered with hundreds of 
names and initials which have been engraved here, as well 
as on many places of the ascent, by sentimental tourists. 
The instruments of graving are furnished by the accom- 
panying Bedouins against a baksheesh. 

It was on a sunny but windy day, when I stood up there 
for the first time and holding on to the flag-mast, contem- 
plated the strange and weirdly interesting view. How 
different this panorama was from all others which I had 
seen ! Towards the east stretches a fertile plain, traversed 
by narrow channels of irrigation, which reaches to the 
bank of the Nile, the glittering ribbon of which separates 
the green fields from the city. In groups and long lines 
along the channels high palm trees raise their graceful 
crowns into the air. Among the wide fields are scattered 
picturesque Fellah villages. Above the dimly visible maze 
of the houses and mosques of Cairo rises the citadel, the 
cupolas and minarets of which, with the brown and yellow 
slopes of the Mokattam Mountains, form an effective 
background. Towards the south, although at a great dis- 
tance, the pyramid groups of Sakkara, Dashoor and 
Abusir, to the north those of Abu Roash, are plainly out- 



— 143 — 



lined on the horizon. In both directions the landscape 
appears desolate and without trace of vegetation ; its color 
tones are restricted to various shades of yellow and brown, 
and the evening sun alone adds violet and purple tints. 
The mysterious Sphinx near the foot of the Pyramid 
seems to be a memento of death and silence symbolized in 
the great desert towards the west. Somewhat to the left, 
in a southwesterly direction, rise the second, third and 
three other small pyramids. Deep down in front of the 
spectator lie the mastabas of the old empire ; farther on a 
row of destroyed tombs in a rocky cliff. Then comes the 
great yellow waste of sand and the low stone ridges of the 
Lybian Desert which, like the ocean, seems to stretch 
away endlessly. Everything around reminds one of death 
and desolation. 

Nowhere in the world may such a sharp contrast in 
nature be observed as at the pyramids, where blooming 
fields and populous villages are separated only by a sand- 
cliff from the monuments of death and the gruesome soli- 
tude of the desert. What events these gigantic stone 
heaps have witnessed in the course of the centuries ! The 
armies of Sesostris, of Kambyses and Alexander marched 
past here. The Macedonian phalanx was followed by the 
Roman cohorts. The Islamitic hordes, the Saracens, 
Arabs, Mameluks and Turks, and later the great Corsican 
fought in their shadow. But they do not tell their story, 
and only hesitatingly did they give up their own secrets, 
which they had jealously guarded for thousands of years, 
to the men of science who patiently and tirelessly explored 
their bowels. 

Before I started down again, a Bedouin whom on my 
arrival at the top I had noticed eating on a stone, ap- 
proached me and offered to run down Cheops and climb 
up to the top of Chefren for two shillings within ten 



— 144 — 



minutes. I immediately remembered the fellow whom 
Carter Harrison mentions in his book "A Race with the 
Sun," and inquired his name. "My name Mark Twain," 
he replied proudly. It was the same man. Although I 
had no special interest in seeing a skinny Arab climb up 
and down the Pyramids, the task seemed difficult enough 
to induce me to convince myself of the possibility of its 
execution. I accepted, therefore, the proposition, and 
must confess that the sureness of foot with which the 
fellow, jumping from stone to stone, gained the ground, 
the fleetness with which he traversed the distance to the 
second pyramid, and the simian agility with which he 
mounted it, were truly astonishing. He had hardly taken 
more than nine minutes to accomplish his task. While he 
stood on the apex motioning with his arms, I took a snap- 
shot of Old Chefren. The distance, however, was so great 
that "Mark Twain" appears on the picture only as a black 
speck even when seen through a magnifying glass. 

On the same afternoon I entered the interior of the 
Cheops Pyramid accompanied by only one Bedouin. The 
vivid memory which I have retained of the suffocating 
atmosphere in these subterranean chambers and corridors 
causes me to wonder even to-day why the Egyptian gov- 
ernment, which charges an admission fee, does hot furnish 
bathing suits for this visit. They would surely come 
handy. If anywhere else one goes down a damp mine 
shaft one is furnished with suitable clothes, and in the 
vStock Yards of Chicago one receives rubber shoes and a 
rubber coat for the purpose of preventing blood stains on 
the clothes. So, why not have a bathing suit when one 
visits a place, the temperature of which corresponds with 
that of a steam bath? Considering this temperature and 
the smoothly-paved narrow corridor, the roof of which 
gradually gets so low that one has to creep on hands and 



- 145 — 



knees, it is hardly worth while for a layman to visit the 
king's chamber. This, after all, is nothing more than a 
square room lined with granite, containing only the cover- 
less broken sarcophagus of the king, whose mummy was 
stolen by grave robbers centuries ago. 

There is another circumstance besides the stifling at- 



4. 




The Sphinx. 



mosphere which makes me think of the interior of the 
Cheops Pyramid only with unpleasant feelings. My guide 
had descended into a dark shaft which leads to the so- 
called chamber of the queen. While he was lighting a 
magnesium wire for the purpose of showing me the walls 
and depth of the shaft, he accidentally dropped his candle 



— 146 — 



and we were suddenly in the dark. I had omitted to pro- 
vide myself with a light and neither the guide nor I could 
find a match in our pockets. Though I knew very well 
that there was no danger in these corridors, where guides 
and tourists were coming and going at short intervals, 
yet the situation was extremely unpleasant. I sat on the 
edge of the shaft, out of the depth of which the guide 
advised me to remain quiet and to await the arrival of 
other visitors who could not be long coming. The heat 
was stifling and the darkness — Egyptian. The outlook of 
being compelled to sit here for half an hour or an hour 
was not very pleasing, and I gave vent to my feelings 
towards Yussufr* in a rather energetic manner. Luckily, 
only ten or fifteen minutes had elapsed, when I heard 
voices and noticed lights approaching. That I felt greatly 
relieved to get out into the bright sunshine from the dark- 
ness of the pyramid, I need hardly affirm. During the 
whole time in there, I had experienced a peculiar oppres- 
sive feeling which I could not explain, but which may 
have been caused by the thought of the tremendous stone 
mass of millions of tons above me, and I greeted the air 
and light like one escaping from the tomb. 

All these memories of my last year's trip I recalled 
while walking down the sandy road to the Sphinx in order 
to look again into the mysterious mutilated face which wit- 
nessed the building of the pyramids. When I returned, 
the young people had descended again and prepared after 
a short rest to penetrate into the chambers. It was already 
dark when Bill and I on donkeys, and the rest of the party 
in carriages, returned to Cairo. 

This was the last time that I took part in the excursions 
of Mrs. C. . . .'s party. My plan to go from Egypt to 
Ceylon and India necessitated a disposition of my time 
which did not allow me to remain any longer with these 



— 147 — 



amiable friends. However, I had the pleasure of meeting 
them again accidentally at the Paris Exposition after my 
return from the far Orient,, and we spent some time to- 
gether in that gay capital of the world. 

Before starting for Upper Egypt, where the time at my 
disposal was enough to allow me to visit the magnificent 
ruins of Thebes, I made an excursion to Sakkara mainly 
to see once more the tomb of Ti, the splendid bas-relief 
sculptures of which reveal so much of the daily occupa- 
tions and the general life of the ancient Egyptians, while, 
at the same time, they represent the old Egyptian art in 
its highest development. 

I have omitted until now to mention a person who had 
served me during my last sojourn in Cairo as guide on 
such excursions which had to be made by rail, and con- 
sequently made Tobey's and Jim Corbett's services impos- 
sible. His name was Achmed. I had met him again on 
the first morning after our arrival at his usual post, one of 
the arcade columns in front of the hotel. His half-blind 
eyes lit up visibly as he recognized me, and the old, well- 
known phrase dropped from his lips : "I am your servant, 
master." This sentence was stereotypic with Achmed 
and followed all answers which he gave to questions, as 
regularly as day follows night. Achmed was a moralist. 
He stayed within his four walls at night. When I re- 
quested him once to accompany me for an evening stroll 
to the quarters of the fish market, he refused to grant my 
request with the following words: "I am your servant, 
master — I am good man — plenty bad boys go fish market 
— I no go." 

I thought, therefore, of Achmed when I planned my 
excursion to Sakkara. The day before I had met Mr. and 
Mrs. Jeremiah Curtin on the street and had found out 
that they also intended to go to Sakkara on the following 



— 148 - 



day. We naturally decided to go together. The train 
leaves at 8 o'clock in the morning, and we met promptly 
at the depot. Achmed was already waiting for us and 
took immediate charge of the provision baskets, kodaks 
and field glasses. We reached the small station Bedrash- 
ein, where donkeys must be secured, in less than an hour. 
After a prolonged struggle with a horde of donkey boys 
we succeeded in selecting our animals. The donkeys of 
Bedrashein are not so large as those of Cairo, but they 
are infinitely more lazy and stupid. How often in the 
course of the day I longed for Jim Corbett, in spite of 
all his gallant eccentricities ! Mr. and Mrs. Curtin are, 
like myself, rather above medium size, and we looked, 
therefore, somewhat ludicrous upon our little donkeys. 

The road leads at first over a low embankment to a 
charming palm wood which shades a large part of the site 
of ancient Memphis. But whoever is not informed of 
this fact by guides or Baedeker, will never suspect during 
the pleasant ride through this wood, that he is tramping 
over the site of one of the greatest cities of antiquity. 
Beside a few insignificant heaps of air-dried mud bricks 
and other debris, nothing points to the fact that once the 
streets of a city were spreading here, which, as late as in 
the middle ages, covered many square miles of ground. 
To-day the plow of the Fellah furrows the soil of Old 
Memphis and only filthy hamlets rise over the few re- 
mains of stately temples and royal palaces. 

However, not all the witnesses of its great past have 
disappeared. Somewhat deeper in the wood lie, prone 
upon the ground, two fallen and mutilated colossal statues 
of Rameses II, the proportions of which are astonishing. 
One of the gigantic torsos is of granite, the other of fine 
limestone, and the latter fragment, to get a good view of 
which one has to mount a wooden stairway, must have 



— 119 — 



measured at least forty feet in height in its complete con- 
dition. Coming out of the palm wood one sees before 
him in the distance the two pyramid groups of Dashoor 
and Sakkara, the latter village and to the left Mitraheen, 
another hamlet. Riding past these villages one reaches 
the sandy plateau upon which is situated the great burial 




On the Way to Sakkara (Achmed in Background). 



field of Sakkara. The numerous tombs which have fre- 
quently been opened and covered up again, and which 
have served as resting places not only for man, but also 
for ibises, cats and other sacred animals, do not offer any- 
thing worth seeing. The pyramids also appear insignifi- 
cant in comparison to the group of Gizeh. Only the Step 



— 150 — 

Pyramid and another one with broken outlines are of 
interest on account of their unusual shapes. The first one 
is probably the most ancient monument in the world. 
While passing this City of Death, we were much molested 
by Arab boys from the nearby villages, who, in the most 
importunate manner, offered antiquities which they 
claimed to have found on the spot, but which more prob- 
ably originated in some Egyptian factory of antiques. 

In the so-called Mariette House, the terrace of which is 
free to all strangers, we unpacked our provisions. It was 
nearly noon. Achmed accepted a part of our lunch, but 
refused, as a good Mohammedan should, a glass of wine. 
His religious conscience, however, could not have been so 
very strict, for when Mrs. Curtin after lunch, which had 
in part consisted of ham sandwiches, asked him why he 
did not drink wine while he ate pork, he replied with 
evidently feigned indignation that he did not do that. 
When I pointed out to him that he had just eaten several 
ham sandwiches, he said in a comically reproachful tone : 
"Why you tell me that, master ?" Two other Arab guides 
who stood nearby had overheard this conversation and 
apparently began to tease Achmed. He retorted angrily 
at first, but disappeared eventually around the corner of 
the house for the purpose of getting rid of the unclean 
pork by a voluntary sacrifice. His demeanor during the 
rest of the day showed plainly that he would have pre- 
ferred to digest the sandwiches in peace, and on the way 
home he sadly said to me : "I am your servant, master, 
but me no think it is bad eat pig, if you not know it." 

As mentioned before, the tomb of Ti is one of the most 
interesting monuments of the earliest period of Egyptian 
history. According to the inscriptions, Ti must have been 
an important personage, something like a superintendent 
of royal buildings, and his well-preserved tomb shows by 



— 151 - 



its magnificence and the portrayed subjects of its wall 
decorations that he also was a rich man. Perhaps he 
understood the science of making something out of an 
office. I naturally dare to express this suspicion only 
because it is probable that no descendants of the Ti family 
are living in the United States and that no libel suit is 
likely to follow. 

However, Ti has by his mastaba in so far rendered a 
service to posterity, as the sculptural representations on 
its walls have given us such a comprehensive picture of 
old Egyptian life as, if I am not mistaken, can be found 
only upon one other Egyptian monument, the tomb of 
Mery. We learn from these reliefs which, in spite of the 
well-known stiff and angular style of the Egyptians, really 
possess artistic merit, that most of the trades and agri- 
cultural occupations in that early period (4500 B. C.) 
were conducted in about the same manner which is even 
to-day in use among the Fellahs. Though modern meth- 
ods have been introduced on the estates of the Khedive 
and other rich men, and a few urban artisans are begin- 
ning to use some modern tools, the population of the coun- 
try still follows faithfully in the tracks of their ancestors 
without allowing themselves to be touched by the advanc- 
ing civilization. The same wooden plow which had been 
used in the time of Menes suffices the Fellah of to-day, 
and if he, at present, does not have his grain thrashed out 
by rams, it is only the animals but not the method which 
he has changed. 

The low reliefs of the death chamber and the other 
rooms represent, among others, the occupations of mowing 
by means of a sickle, of grain cleaning, ship building, car- 
pentering, cabinet making, fishing, dairy farming, account- 
ing and geese fattening. One panel also shows the prep- 
aration of the dumplings used for feeding the Capitolian 



— 152 — 



birds. If there were no better proofs of the Jewish bond- 
age in Egypt in existence, the strongly marked predilec- 
tion of the modern sons of Israel for fattened geese would 
furnish a good argument to prove that their ancestors 
must have acquired this taste before they fled from 
Goshen to Canaan. 

The mastaba of Mery, not far from the tomb of Ti, is 
almost as interesting as the latter and resembles it in its 
general decoration, without, however, having the same 
claim to artistic merit. What I remarked specially in this 
tomb, were the relative proportions in the portraits of 
Mery and his wife, the latter appearing like a pygmy next 
to a colossal giant. While it is a peculiarity of old Egyp- 
tian portrayals that kings and sometimes other great per- 
sonages always appear gigantic in comparison with the 
rest of the persons depicted (thus Ti), the fact that Mery, 
not a royal personage, had his wife portrayed so much 
smaller than himself, throws an interesting side-light on 
the position of woman of that period. "Now, an Ameri- 
can woman would not tolerate that," remarked Mrs. Cur- 
tin, with a glance at her husband, when I called her atten- 
tion to this sculpture. 

While in Alexandria every trace of the Greek Serapeum 
has disappeared, the burial field of Sakkara has at least 
preserved the subterranean part of the great sanctuary 
which once was devoted to the service of the Egyptian 
Serapis. The vaulted corridors which were first discov- 
ered by Mariette in 1851 served exclusively as resting 
places for the sacred bulls revered under the name of 
Apis. They contain a number of deep recesses containing 
more than twenty black or red sarcophagi which once 
enclosed the embalmed bodies of the sacred steers. These 
granite or limestone sarcophagi are of colossal dimensions, 
but are mostly broken. I do not think I am mistaken 



— 153 — 



when I state their proportions to be about 12 feet in 
length, 7 feet in width and 10 feet in height. The thick- 
ness of the walls is between 12 and 14 inches. Since the 
sarcophagi are hewn throughout of one block, one may 
imagine the difficulties under which they were transported 
here and put in position. 




The Step Pyramid, Sakkara. 

At the finding of the Serapeum by Mariette a single 
chamber had been found untouched, and I quote here the 
relative words of the scientist in his report of the dis- 
covery : "By an unexplained accident one chamber which 
had been closed in the thirtieth year of Rameses II had 
escaped the pillagers of the tombs, and I had the good 
fortune to discover it untouched. Three thousand seven 



— 154 — 



hundred years had not been able to effect any change, and 
the finger prints of the Egyptian who put the last stone 
into the wall, which had been erected in order to mask 
the door, were plainly visible on the mortar. On a heap of 
sand in a corner of the room naked feet had left their 
traces. Nothing was missing in this chamber of death, in 
which an embalmed steer had been buried for nearly four 
thousand years." 

In spite of the tribute of admiration which I had to pay 
to these Apis tombs, the ironical thought forced itself 
upon me that with all our boasted progress, we of to-day 
are still imbued with a spirit of similar idolatry and that 
we are building tombs and monuments of bronze and 
marble to many a nonentity who wandered through this 
world in the disguise of a great man. 



X. 



From Cairo to Luxor. — Thebes, the Ancient City 
of Hundred Gates. — Blind Children. — The Ruins 
of Karnak. — The Temple of Luxor. — In the Val- 
ley of Death. — Cook Tactics. — The Greatest 
Statue in the World. — The Colossi of Memnon. — 
Roman and Greek Globe Trotters. — Karl Neufeld. 

The railroad journey from Cairo to Luxor was anything 
but agreeable, and would have been even worse had not 
the view of the changing landscape detracted my attention 
from the unpleasantness of the journey. The heat was 
stifling, and the poorly fitting windows allowed the fine 
dust to enter in such quantities as to cover, within the 
shortest time, everything with a thick yellowish layer. 
The dust penetrated even into the provisions and made 
them almost unfit to eat. 

The Nile remains in sight for long distances at a time, 
and where the high banks occasionally hide it from view 
its presence is often revealed by the graceful sails of a 
dahabieh. Here and there pyramids rise in the distance, 
and the plain alternates with precipitous mountains, the 
barren slopes of which are bathed by the stream. Sugar 
plantations and cotton fields follow each other, and the 
landscape is dotted with cattle, donkeys ai d camels. Aside 
from the people at the stations, not much of the popula- 
tion is seen. 

The train was to arrive in Luxor at 10 P. M., but the 
fourteen hours of the time table grew into eighteen. The 
locomotive had been stopped at Girgeh by an attack of 
whooping cough. One could hear it puffing, but the train 



— 156 — 



did not move from the spot. While I was explaining to 
the official in the small station building the difference be- 
tween a "train de luxe" and a "train de Luxor," describ- 
ing to him at the same time the beauties and advantages 
of one of our fine American trains such as the "Pioneer 
Limited" of the Chicago, Milwaukee & St. Paul railroad, I 
thought sadly of the good berths and other comforts of 
this flyer and wished myself from Girgeh to — anywhere 
between Chicago and St. Paul. But everything has an 
end, and so had this journey. 

It was 2 o'clock in the morning when we arrived in 
Luxor. The Grand Hotel, in which I had taken rooms, 
borders with its tropical garden on the Nile, and the view 
in the morning when I pushed aside the curtains of my 
room and looked out of the window was exceedingly 
attractive. Like a charm it made me forget the disagree- 
able experiences of the day before. After breakfast and 
before formulating a further plan, I took a stroll into the 
village which, like Karnak and a few other widely scat- 
tered hamlets, occupies a part of ancient Thebes, the City 
of Hundred Gates. Luxor is an insignificant place, the 
inhabitants of which make, directly or indirectly, a living 
from the tourists which frequent its three hotels during 
the winter season. Their income depends largely on the 
gullibility of the strangers who buy here numerous curi- 
osities and antiquities, especially scarabaes, which are 
manufactured by thousands in the village. I do not wish 
to say, however, that everything sold in Luxor is bogus, 
as I was told that the village also counted some honest 
people among its inhabitants. 

In the deep sand of the streets crowds of children were 
playing, and here more than anywhere else in Egypt one 
may notice the large number of little unfortunates either 
half blind or about to become so within a short time. I 



- 157 — 



am not a competent judge of the causes to which may be 
ascribed the many cases of blindness in Egypt, but it 
seems as if the criminal neglect of the parents, who ex- 
pose children of the most tender age with their dirty little 
faces to the swarms of flies which gather around the cor- 
ners of their mouths, their nostrils and especially around 




The Road to Karnak. 

their eyelids, was mostly to blame for it. Such a poor 
child defends itself at first as well as it can against these 
pests, but soon gets used to them, and it is a daily sight 
to see babies sitting quietly in the sun, around the black 
eyes of which are ranged thick rows of flies, which they 



— 158 — 



attempt to drive away by blinking, only when a specially 
aggressive insect threatens to crawl into the eye itself. 

Returning to the hotel I found Achmed Hassan, one of 
the best guides of Luxor, waiting, whose services, mean- 
while, had been secured for me by the manager of the 
hotel. Hassan proved himself a guide who took his duties 
seriously and always tried to do his best. I gladly over- 
looked, therefore, the little extra profits which he managed 
to make out of the hiring of boats, donkeys, and of the 
distribution of baksheesh entrusted to him. Like my old 
friend Achmed in Cairo, Hassan was also blind in one eye. 

Our first ride was to Karnak, the road to which is partly 
shaded by magnificent palms and does not take more than 
half an hour to traverse. The distant view of the groups 
of ruins as one approaches from Luxor is at first disap- 
pointing. One has from descriptions formed an exagger- 
ated idea of these imposing temple remains, and now at 
the first sight of them nothing more is visible than a few 
pylons and a single obelisk surmounting an extended heap 
of ruins. Approaching nearer, however, one cannot fail 
to gain the conviction that these are the greatest and most 
important monuments of old Egyptian architecture. 

Leaving the sacred lake of the much demolished Moot 
Temple to the right, we rode as far as the avenue of well- 
preserved ram sphinxes which leads to the Gate of Ever- 
getes I and the Temple of Chons, where we dismouted to 
continue our way through the ruins on foot. 

I will not and cannot go into a detailed description of 
the remains of these grand creations of human art and 
power. More competent pens than mine have done this. 
All I have to say to those who have inclination and means 
for travel is : "Come, see, and wonder !" 

From the height of the Giant Gate of Ptolemy which 
forms the entrance to the main group of courts and 



— 159 — 



temples, and from where one may survey the vast field 
of ruins, my eyes absorbed the overwhelming picture of 
the grand ensemble, and I must confess that nothing that 
I had seen until then had impressed itself on my mind so 
everlastingly. The pyramids are gigantic, but in view of 
their grandeur it is only the feeling of the colossal that 




General View of Ruins of Karnak. 

forces itself on the mind, and one can hardly count them 
creations of architecture. Before I had seen Karnak, the 
Coliseum at Rome had always appeared to me the most 
imposing building of antiquity and T could hardly imagine 
anything greater ; but it dwindles into nothing when com- 
pared with these ruins. If the two could be placed next to 



— 160 — 



each other, the relative proportions of the first toward the 
latter would appear somewhat like the handiwork of man 
compared to that of Titans, for it really seems as if Titans 
only could have piled up the mighty gates, columns and 
architraves which millenniums have not been able to de- 
molish altogether. Much has been destroyed, but one can 
still form a good picture of the vast temple grounds from 
the top of the first pylon, and with a little power of imag- 
ination one can see the halls, courts and temples as they 
stood under the Pharaohs who erected them. 

The view of this waste of ruins in moonlight is especi- 
ally impressive, and anything more effective than the deep 
shadows which the mighty pillars of the great hall of 
columns throw upon the ground and upon each other, 
even a painter could hardly conceive. Everything appears 
enlarged and more gigantic than in daylight, and when 
walking through the halls and courts my own small 
shadow lost itself in the heavy black masses, I felt like a 
dwarf in a palace of giants. 

It is asserted that in the night-time jackals and fre- 
quently hyenas, roam near and among the ruins of Kar- 
nak, and an experienced guide offered for a pound sterl- 
ing to furnish the necessary arms and ammunition for a 
night hunt in his company. He also guaranteed the ap- 
pearance of game in case I was willing to lay in wait for 
several hours during two or three nights, either near these 
ruins or near the tombs of the kings on the other side of 
the river. I should have refused the offer, even were I a 
hunter, for I cannot imagine anything more weirdly pic- 
turesque in the nocturnal solitude of the temple ruins and 
the Valley of Death than the presence of these animals, 
and under no circumstances would I have destroyed the 
effect of such a view by firing a shot at them. 

The Temple of Luxor, which is situated close to the 



— 161 — 



river bank, has not by any means the proportions of Kar- 
nak, but its size is still such that not many years ago it 
contained a part of the village, the houses of which were 
built in between its half-buried columns. In consequence 
of the continued excavations these have, however, now 
disappeared. The pillars and statues have almost entirely 




The Pylon of Evergetes I. 

been freed of the covering debris and only a small mosque 
and a few insignificant huts stand at present upon the 
rubbish heaps at one end of the temple. More so than in 
Karnak the annual Nile floods seem to have been the 
destroying element in Luxor, and if the managers of the 
Egypt Exploration Fund or the government do not con- 



— 162 — 



template very soon to put a stop to Old Father Nile's de- 
structive work by suitably constructed dams, the strongly 
affected foundations, and with them the whole temple, 
must fall within a measurable time. 

Next morning shortly after sunrise we started to visit 
the tombs of the kings on the west shore of the river. A 
large row-boat awaited us at the rear of the hotel garden. 
Its crew consisted of an old Arab and a young fellow of 
about fourteen years, and it was only with difficulty that 
they could propel the heavy boat through the water. In 
order to get force and regularity into their strokes they 
accompanied them with rhythmic repetitions of the words : 
"Allah hele! Hele Allah!" (God help me! Help me 
God !) The poor devils ought to have rather invoked the 
help of a third oarsman, for they were nearly out of breath 
and covered with perspiration when we reached the low 
island opposite Luxor, where our donkey boy Khaleel 
awaited us with two donkeys. The stream on this side is 
very shallow, and there being no landing stage I had to be 
carried ashore on the arms of the two oarsmen, which, 
after their exhaustive work of crossing, did not prove an 
easy matter. Hassan, to wade ashore, had only to take 
off his slippers and pull his gown over his knees. 

Having crossed the narrow island, we had to ford a 
second shallow Nile arm. The water in several places 
reaching to the bellies of the donkeys, I was compelled to 
lean over the neck of my animal and to pull up my legs, 
in which position Hassan took a snap-shot of me. I had 
instructed him already in Karnak in the use of a kodak, 
and the picture of my landing upon the arms of the oars- 
men was his first work. 

From the western shore the way leads through green 
fields, past a small village and the Temple of Sethos I., to 
the ancient cemetery of Drah Abool Neggah, near which 



— 163 - 



is the entrance to the winding ravine through which the 
tombs of the kings are reached. The farther one advances 
in this gradually narrowing gorge, the more one is over- 
come by a feeling of entire solitude and utter loneliness. 
In every direction the eye meets only barren, precipitous 
rocks, the yellowish brown coloring of which assumes 




Columns in Temple of Rameses II. 



deeper tones only where the glaring rays of the sun throw 
their shadows. Nowhere in this landscape, which seems 
to be a refuge of death, can a sign of life be discovered. 
No shrub, no weed, not even a blade of grass could take 
root in this burnt desert, where at noon-time the sun sends 
down his fiery rays without a trace of humidity lessening 



— 164 — 



the scorching glow. The deep blue sky looks like a 
heated glass bell, and the vibrating air is swept only, from 
time to time, by the wings of a falcon, or an eagle circling 
high above the awe-inspiring valley. All around reigns 
endless quiet ; no bird is chirping, no lizard is flitting over 
the ground, not even the buzzing of an insect disturbs the 
depressing stillness of the desert, majestic in its barren 
grandeur. Truly this vale has been created for the dead, 
and nowhere in the world could the mighty kings who 
reigned in Thebes have found a better site for their eternal 
sleep. 

The stillness of this ravine is deeper in the day-time 
than at night, when the howling of jackals and hyenas 
and the mournful cry of owls echo from the rocky walls. 
With the falling darkness the bats, too, emerge from the 
empty tombs and the ghostly desert shows a nocturnal life 
which makes it even more gruesome than the awful still- 
ness of the day. 

The sad impression which one receives passing through 
the gorge becomes even more sad when one reaches the 
valley called "Biban el Mulook," in the rocky walls of 
which are hewn the tombs of the kings. The barren ridges 
and slopes here take on peculiarly grotesque shapes, giv- 
ing the valley the aspect of an abode of spirits or witches. 

Dark openings in the rocks leading downwards mark 
the various royal tombs, which show great similarity of 
construction. Through a modern iron-grated door one 
reaches a broad corridor, followed in a sloping line by 
two others which lead to an ante-room, and through this 
into the large chamber in which the sarcophagus stands. 
The corridors frequently contain side chambers and niches 
which served for the disposition of utensils to be used by 
the dead on their trip through the land of spirits. The 
walls are adorned with bas-reliefs and paintings, the 



— 165 — 



colors of which have often preserved their entire fresh- 
ness, and the subjects of which relate mainly to the voyage 
of the king in the realm of death. The most beautiful of 
these tombs is that of Sethos I., also called Belzoni's 
Tomb (after its discoverer), the artistic wall decoration 
of which surpasses by far that of the other tombs, con- 




Hall of Alexander the Great. 



taining besides, on the vaulted roof of the death chamber, 
a series of highly interesting astronomical pictures. Nat- 
urally, the tombs do not contain any longer the royal 
bodies and even the sarcophagi have partly disappeared. 
The mummy of Sethos I. is now deposited in Gizeh, to- 



— 166 — 



gether with those of the other kings which have been 
found hidden in the tomb recesses of Dar-el-Bahri. 

Before we had examined more than three or four of 
these interesting tombs the noon hour had arrived, and I 
gave up, therefore, my intended visit to the "Biban-el- 
harim" (tombs of the queens). Hassan had sent Khaleel 
with the donkeys ahead to Dar-el-Bahri and we followed 
now, in the burning heat of- the midday sun, the steep 
foot path which leads there over the mountain ridge. I 
shall never forget the exertion which this walk of less 
than an hour cost me under the vertical rays of the scorch- 
ing Egyptian sun. It spoiled for me the magnificent view 
over the Nile Valley from the top of the mountain, and 
robbed me of all interest in the beautiful Temple of 
Hatasoo. My tongue was cleaving to the palate with 
thirst and my brain seemed to be cooked when we reached 
at last the valley on the other side, where we found 
Khaleel and the donkeys waiting for us. 

Thomas Cook & Son have here a so-called "rest house,' , 
where hungry and thirsty travelers are supposed to receive 
food and drink upon the payment of moderate charges. 
Hassan led the way to this place for the purpose of pro- 
curing me a drink of water, as I hardly felt able without 
a refreshment to reach the Temple of Dar-el-Bahri, where 
our provisions awaited us. I was, in fact, near fainting. 
Arriving in front of the house, Hassan entered to ask for 
a glass of water, wine or any other drink. He soon re- 
turned, however, reporting that he was unable to secure 
anything. Dismounting and entering the house myself, I 
begged the European manager for a drink of water or 
anything else, offering to pay well for it. Without taking 
notice of my polite request, this gentleman asked me 
whether I was traveling with a Cook ticket or with a Cook 
party, and upon receiving my negative reply, he curtly 



— 167 — 



refused me any refreshment, giving as his excuse that 
only Cook's tourists were served in the rest house. I left 
without further appeal, but was lucky enough to meet in 
the immediate neighborhood of the ''rest house" an Arab 
who, at Hassan's request, immediately hurried to one of 
the empty tombs of Assasif, which was his lodging, and 




Fording a Shallow Nile Arm. 

from where he quickly returned with a pitcher of water. 
The water was not cool, nor was the vessel very clean, 
but never had a drink tasted so well to me. I rewarded 
the Arab with a shilling and bought from him, besides, 
several trifles he had for sale. 

The terrace construction of the Temple of Dar-el-Bahri 



— 168 — 



differs essentially from that of other Egyptian temples, 
and this difference, with the picturesque background of 
precipitous cliffs against which the structure leans, make 
it one of the most interesting of the many temples on the 
western Nile shore in the vicinity of Luxor. A large part 
of its three terraces is hewn from the living rock and 
many of its chambers are cut into the cliff itself. Unfor- 
tunately, the artistic wall decorations of the temple were 
badly mutilated through the fanaticism of Coptic monks 
who took up their abode in it during the first centuries of 
the Christian era, and only little is left in good preserva- 
tion. 

On the way to the tombs of El Assasif, not far from 
Dar-el-Bahri, I noticed that many Arab families were 
installed in forsaken tombs in which they seemed to live 
as happily as other Arabs in their miserable hovels. Near 
one of the latter I noticed a peculiar round structure of 
mud bricks measuring approximately six feet in height, 
with a diameter of about eight feet, the flat roof of which 
was bordered by a low curb. According to Hassan, the 
space within this curb was used as a sleeping place for 
children, who are thus protected against the bites of scor- 
pions and other vermin. 

The tombs of El Assasif are uninteresting, and even a 
visit to the great tomb of Peteamenope is anything but 
pleasant. I would have gladly excused Hassan if he had 
not led me into the latter. Although by no means pos- 
sessed of the keenest sense of smell, still the odors eman- 
ating from the myriads of bats which inhabit this tomb 
made it impossible for. me to penetrate far into it. 

In the course of the next few days we crossed twice 
more to the western shore of the river. With feelings of 
awe and admiration I wandered through the temple ruins 
of Medinet Haboo ; I visited the tombs of Abd-el-Koorna, 



— 1C9 — 



roamed between the grand columns of the Rameseum, and 
gazed with wonder at the fallen colossus of Rameses II. 
This giant statue, which exists now only in fragments, 
was the largest of the many Old Egypt boasted, and it 
excites, even in its broken condition, the admiration of all 
visitors. One may form a fair idea of the size of this 




Biban el Mulook, the Valley of Death. 



colossus by looking at the dimensions of the fragments 
left. Thus, the ear is more than three feet long. The 
width of the torso from shoulder to shoulder is about 
twenty feet, and if one were to judge by the length of one 
of the fingers, which measures nearly five feet, Rameses 
II. must indeed have ruled with a heavy hand. 



— 170 — 



One morning we visited the colossi of Memnon in order 
to hear the sound which one of them is said to emit at that 
time. However, we must have arisen too late or else the 
colossus was not in the right humor to give a perform- 
ance, for although I listened attentively he neither sighed 
nor sang. In order to induce him to it a light-footed Arab 
boy climbed up the statue and — lo ! the colossus emitted 
a plaintive tone — after the dusky urchin had hit him in 
the ribs with a heavy cane. This was not very astonish- 
ing, for I too should certainly have uttered a moan, had I 
received that blow. It does not make any difference, how- 
ever, whether the Colossus of Memnon, as the myth tells 
us, utters a sound at sunrise or not. The fact is that all 
travelers are interested in the giant statue in consequence 
of this myth. The numerous inscriptions which cover the 
legs of the northernmost colossus, which is supposed to be 
the one with the musical taste, prove that this interest has 
existed for many centuries. Most of the inscriptions are 
in the Greek and Latin language and originate from the 
time of the Roman Empire. Some of them are dated, and 
many of the names engraved there can be found in the 
pages of Roman history. A better proof that the traveling 
vandals who think to immortalize themselves by engrav- 
ing their names or initials on every historical building or 
monument are not a product of modern times cannot be 
found. One may forgive, however, the ancient globe- 
trotters the sentimentality or vanity which induced them 
to mutilate this monument, for, in the first place, globe- 
trotting at that time was infinitely more difficult than at 
present, and secondly, the poetic and prosaic mementos of 
their visits are of historical interest. 

I should have liked to continue my journey in Upper 
Egypt at least as far as Assouan, but East Indian steam- 
ers do not wait for passengers any more than do other 



— 171 — 



vessels, and my time just allowed me to return to Cairo 
and from there reach Ismailia on the Suez Canal, where I 
intended to embark. The return trip to Cairo was not 
unpleasant, as I used the night train which leaves Luxor 
in the afternoon. Soon after the train started, I made the 
acquaintance of a traveling companion who excited my 




Entrance to Tomb of Sethi I. 

interest in the highest degree. The compartment I occu- 
pied contained only one other gentleman, with whom I 
soon entered into conversation. My companion came 
from Khartoum and betrayed a thorough knowledge of 
Egyptian and Soudanese conditions. In answer to my 
question as to whether he had lived for any length of 



— 172 — 



time in these countries, he said that he had resided in 
Khartoum rather longer than was enjoyable for him. At 
the same time he handed me his card, and the name which 
I read thereon immediately made everything clear to me. 
My traveling companion was Karl Neufeld, the German 
merchant, who had lived twelve years in captivity with the 
Mahdi, from which he was delivered by the English 
at the re-taking of Khartoum under Lord Kitchener. 

Neufeld was a tall, bony man with sunburnt features 
and a thick reddish-brown beard. He spoke fairly good 
English with a strong accent, but his conversation be- 
trayed, neither in this nor in his native language, the man 
of culture one might justly suppose the author of his book, 
since published, to be. However, he is a good narrator, 
and it was I who gave him the advice to deliver lectures in 
Germany, England and America, which, considering the 
vivid interest displayed by the public in the re-conquest of 
the Soudan, would undoubtedly result in good financial 
returns. Neufeld has, in fact, followed my advice. I have 
not heard any of his public lectures, but what he told me 
in an impromptu way at the time of our meeting 
about the Mahdi and his followers, as well as of 
his own adventures and sufferings during a captivity 
of twelve years spent mostly in heavy chains, was cer- 
tainly most interesting. As he was showing me the scars 
which the iron fetters had left on his ankles he spoke with 
feeling of the black Abyssinian woman whom the Mahdi 
had forced him to marry, and to the dog-like fidelity of 
whom he owed his life on more than one occasion. This 
forced marriage had resulted in the birth of two children, 
and since his liberation Neufeld found himself in a pecu- 
liar dilemma as between the gratitude which he owed this 
black woman and the duty towards his legitimate wife, an 
English lady, who had patiently waited twelve years for 



— 173 — 



his return. At the time of our meeting he was just com- 
ing back from a visit to his black family in Khartoum, and 
his English wife with a grown daughter was awaiting him 
in Cairo. This dilemma seemed to cause him much unrest 
and moral pain, and the only way which he saw out of it 
was to secure the future of his Abyssinian family and then 
to abandon them. The older and only legitimate rights of 
his first wife made this action compulsory, and love had to 
come before gratitude. 

In Cairo I parted from Karl Neufeld, and although he 
urged me most cordially to make the acquaintance of his 
English wife, circumstances did not allow me to avail 
myself of his invitation. 



XL 



Through Goshen. — Tel-el-Kebir. — Ismailia. — In the 
Red Sea. — English Travelers. — Perim. — Divers and 
Merchants of Aden. — Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay ! — So- 
kotra. — P. & O. Officers. — Landing in Ceylon. 

I had engaged my passage in Cairo for the voyage from 
Ismailia to Ceylon by the steamer "India" of the Penin- 
sular & Oriental S. S. Navigation Company. Since the 
arrival and departure of these steamers at the stations on 
the Suez Canal do not occur according to an exact time 
table, I left Cairo twelve hours before the "India" was 
said to be due in Ismailia. The trip to this city from 
Cairo is a short one, lasting only about four hours, and 
from a scenic point of view may not be called very inter- 
esting. He who knows Egypt from Alexandria to Luxor 
cannot even find the charm of novelty in the dirty railway 
stations, the squalid Fellah villages, and the monotonous 
fields which alternate occasionally with small date palm 
groves. 

Interesting, at best, are only the groups of Arabs which 
one sees at the various railway stations, the importunate 
hawkers of bogus antiquities, dates, oranges and sugar 
cane, with their picturesque costumes and their Oriental 
vivacity, as well as the living figures in the flat landscape, 
such as heavily laden camels and donkeys, lazily march- 
ing along the yellow sand dams. Here and there the 
fields are crossed by narrow irrigation channels and fre- 
quently long stretches of cacti line the railway embank- 
ments. Ancient monuments, in other parts of the country 
so frequent, are entirely lacking here, and only the ruins 



— 175 — 



of the old city of Bubastis (invisible from the train) are 
situated near a station, the name of which has escaped my 
memory. 

Along the road to Ismailia the station Tel-el-Kebir 
offers the greatest interest. In close proximity to it you 
may see the small cemetery, enclosed by a gray wooden 
fence, in which the English officers and soldiers are buried 
who fell on that battle-field in 1882. The train passes so 
closely that one may readily read the inscriptions on the 
white tombstones. Soon after a part of the battle-field 
itself is passed, on which Arabi Pasha engaged in the last 
struggle for Egypt's independence. 

At Aboo-Hammad begins a stretch of desert, and from 
here on nothing is seen but yellow sand and rough gravel, 
until at last, like an oasis, the green clumps of trees ap- 
pear on the horizon, which designate Ismailia, the middle 
station on the Suez Canal. The usual ear-splitting clamor 
of carriers and hotel runners greets the traveler on his 
arrival at the station. Turning my baggage over to an 
agent and pushing through the bustling crowd, I was soon 
comfortably installed at the "Victoria," a branch of the 
celebrated Shepheard's Hotel in Cairo. There I gained 
the information that the "India" would not arrive before 
the next evening, thus leaving me twenty-four hours for 
the study of the city. One does not, however, need that 
much time for this task. Two or three hours are sufficient. 

During the work of building the Suez Canal, Ismailia 
had been a lively town, but its importance to-day is far 
surpassed by that of Port Said and even Suez. Of the 
1200 Europeans who live here in the Frank part of the 
city, one sees very few in the forsaken looking streets, and 
even the Rue cle Commerce, the business thoroughfare, 
looks as sleepy as the few men who loiter about the Greek 
cafes and wine rooms. The citv itself, aside from the 



— 176 - 



Arab quarters, is clean and regularly laid out. The streets 

spread star-like from a small park in the center and are 
lined by most magnificent acacias. In some of them, like 
the Rue Guichard and the Avenue Poilpre, one walks as 
under a vast green canopy. The most important public 
buildings in Ismailia are the summer palace of the Khe- 
dive, the offices of the Suez Canal Company, a one-story 
building in fine Arabic style, and the French Hospital, 
situated outside of the city near the mouth of the canal, 
which broadens here into Lake Timsah. A visit to the 
office buildings of the Canal Company, the two charming 
courtyards of which are adorned by bronze busts of C. 
Lemasson and Jules Guichard, two men who took prom- 
inent part in the building of the canal, is very interesting. 
In one of the rooms is shown a twelve-foot wooden model 
by means of which the exact location of all vessels passing 
through the canal may be at any moment ascertained. 
This is done by means of small wooden cubes bearing on 
narrow cardboard strips the names of the passing boats. 
The position of these cubes is changed from hour to hour 
according to the telegraphic advices received from the va- 
rious stations which are situated along the canal at equal 
distances of 10 kilometres. In this way only is it possible 
to give the passing vessels the necessary orders for stop- 
ping whenever it is necessary to let another vessel pass, 
and to know with certainty the place where a certain boat 
at a certain time must be. 

I saw all there was to see in Ismailia on the afternoon of 
my arrival and during a part of the following morning, 
and passed the rest of the day in the company of an Aus- 
tralian preacher and of the well-known English actor 
Kyrle Bellew, who had also taken passage on the "India." 
We were much interested in watching small negro boys 
dive for nickel piastres which we threw into the lake from 



— 177 — 



a landing bridge. At half past seven in the evening the 
search light of the "India" loomed up in the distance and 
soon after she cast anchor in the lake. A small tender 
brought the few passengers on board and an hour or two 
later the "India" passed into the narrow channel between 
Lake Timsah and the Bitter Lakes. At daybreak we had 




The Suez Canal near Ismailia. 



left Suez behind us and were sailing, favored by magnifi- 
cent weather, in the gulf which divides the Sinai Peninsula 
from the African continent. The two coasts remained in 
plain view during the whole day. On the right stretched 
the sandy shores of Egypt, which, towards evening, gave 
place to a chain of low hills ; on the left the picturesque 



- 178 - 



Sinai range, the rugged and craggy hind peaks of which 
were plainly discernible to the naked eye, rose abruptly 
from the water. The celebrated holy mountain, however, 
remains invisible. In the evening we witnessed a beauti- 
ful sunset behind the Nubian Mountains. The wonderful 
clearness of the air seemed to bring the sharp profile of 
these lofty peaks into closest range, although, according 
to the captain, the coast was at a distance of more than 
seventy miles. On the following day there was no land in 
view and only the numerous flying fish, which may be 
noticed so frequently in the Red Sea, offered some distrac- 
tion. The temperature which was between 80 and 85 
Fahrenheit did not vary much even at night and the wind- 
sails attached to the port holes, as well as the punkahs in 
the dining salon which were kept in continuous motion by 
Lascar seamen, proved very agreeable. The stiff conven- 
tionality at dinner is slightly dispelled as we get farther 
south and the white linen suit of the tropics frequently 
mingles with the monotonous black dress suit and the 
''Tuxedo," but even for the white coat the etiquette is 
severe; it has to be cut in the form of an English Naval 
Officer's jacket and is worn with a silk sash instead of a 
waistcoat. 

The social conditions on the steamer were exceedingly 
conventional. The passengers consisted mostly of Eng- 
lishmen traveling to the Colonies, or of Australians re- 
turning from a "home" visit to their own penates. It is 
a peculiarity of the latter which I had occasion to verify 
on board the "India," that they are always speaking of 
England as "home" although they themselves, or even 
their parents may have been born in Australia, while very 
frequently they do not show any sympathy whatever tow- 
ards the English. For instance, one of my neighbors at 
the table, a Mr. Elliot of Melbourne, ridiculed continu- 



— 179 - 



ally the peculiarities and especially the stiff manners of 
our English fellow-passengers in spite of his British patri- 
otism with which he defended the English war policy 
against the Boers. The fact that the "India" had on 
hoard Lord Stafford-Northcote, the newly appointed gov- 
ernor of the Province of Bombay, with wife and suite, 
added materially to the conventionality among the passen- 
gers. The servility and deference with which the free 
Britons always talked of his "Lordship" and the flunkey- 
ism with which everything turned about his person, was 
really ridiculous, and it was funny to see how the young 
fellows going to the Colonies for the purpose of making a 
career tried to outdo each other in homage to nobility. 

Among all the passengers with whom I got acquainted 
in the course of this eleven-day journey, there were only a 
few whose conversation could afford any pleasure, and 
among these few I felt myself mostly attracted by an ami- 
able couple, Mr. and Mrs. Niels Hoy of Christiania, who 
were on a trip around the world and spoke German and 
English fluently. We spent many hours in pleasant con- 
versation which otherwise would have dragged heavily, 
and the enjoyable days which we later had together in 
Ceylon will ever count among my most agreeable reminis- 
cences. 

On the morning of the fourth day out, we passed the 
Straits of Bab el Mandeb between the Island of Perim and 
the Arabian coast. Perim, an English possession, is 
strongly fortified and from board ship one notices on the 
gray, barren hills only the lighthouse and several larger 
barrack-like buildings, one of which is said to be the cable 
station. The Union Jack floats proudly from a high flag- 
staff while on the opposite side, on the Arabian shore, the 
Turkish colors are waving from a concealed fort. Soon 
we were in the Gulf of Aden and towards noon the south 



— 180 — 



coast of Arabia became dimly visible. At four o'clock 
the "India" cast anchor in the outer harbor of Aden, where 
mail was discharged and taken on, and passengers for 
Bombay were transferred to the S. S. "Arabia." Al- 
though Aden is notorious for its murderous heat, the tem- 
perature at this time of the year was bearable, and many 
passengers prepared to spend the few hours which the 
"India" was to remain in the harbor, in an excursion on 
shore. The anchor had hardly dropped when the steamer 
was surrounded by a number of small boats manned prin- 
cipally by Somali negroes and containing Hindoo, Jewish 
and Arab peddlers, who came to offer ostrich feathers, 
leopard skins, antelope horns, peculiarly woven baskets, 
and other strange objects. Soon a lively traffic in "Pigeon 
English" was established between the occupants of the 
boats and the passengers, while the mail bags were trans- 
ferred to a small steamer. The latter had brought several 
officers on board the "India" who came to receive Lord 
StafTord-Northcote, who was to board the "Arabia" here 
in order to continue the voyage to his new post. 

Like in Ismailia, there were many small Somali boys 
diving near the steamer for small coins thrown into the 
water, but they were by far less modest than the little 
Egyptians. They would dive for nothing but silver. The 
larger the coin the greater was their zeal, and the cer- 
tainty was remarkable with which they could, on the fly, 
distinguish a nickel or a copper piece from a silver coin 
thrown into the sea. It was "shilling! shilling!" what 
they wanted, and only when such a piece, or at least a six- 
pence, was thrown, that they dived like lightning into the 
blue water regardless of the numerous sharks which are 
said to infest the harbor of Aden. We were told though 
that sharks were real epicures who prefer the white skin 
of Europeans and rarely attack a negro. This must be 



- 181 — 



so, for one can hardly believe that even a Somali boy 
would risk his life for a shilling. Whether a Caucasian 
really tastes better I am not in a position to decide, but if 
one may put faith in the biblical tradition, which records 
the only case that may, perhaps, be cited as authority, 
this is not so. Jonah was spit out very soon after the 




Arab Coast near Aden. 

whale had swallowed him and there is certainly no reason 
why a whale should not be believed to have as fastidious a 
taste as a shark. 

That part of Aden which is visible from board ship con- 
sists of the P. & O. offices, artillery barracks, commander's 
building and several scattered smaller houses stretching 



— 182 - 



along the slope of the barren, rugged mountain which 

forms the background of the city. Rowing ashore one 
lands at the Prince of Wales' wharf, and finds himself on 
Steamer Point, the main square of Aden, where at the 
arrival of steamers the multi-colored population congre- 
gates. On this square are situated the two hotels of Aden 
and the various stores, from the doors of which yellow, 
brown and black faces grin pleasantly at the stranger in- 
viting him to buy. "Ostrich feathers ! Postage stamps ! 
Photographs ! cheap ! cheap ! very cheap !" such is the war 
cry with which these fellows rush at their victims, and it 
is almost impossible to escape them. One has to buy. 
The only salvation is to take refuge in one of the small 
carriages, the turbaned drivers of which offer their serv- 
ices for a tour about town which may be extended, if the 
time allows, to the celebrated "Tanks," ancient and re- 
markable water cisterns situated at some distance from the 
city. Like all the passengers who had landed, I did not 
escape my fate. Muncherjee Eduljee Manakjee was the 
name of the noble Parsee to whom I succumbed and of 
whom I bought among other things a bunch of ostrich 
feathers, the real value of which was to be determined by 
my better half after my return home. The ever present 
illustrated postal cards were also offered and I hastened in 
duty bound to send off a dozen or two. My lady friends 
would never have forgiven me had I failed thus to remem- 
ber them from Aden. I also bought a talisman in the 
shape of a leather fillet guaranteed to possess the virtue of 
keeping the devil away. This treasure I purchased from 
one of the boatsmen who succeeded in softening my ada- 
mant resolution not to buy by a soft Somali love chant 
and afterwards by the touching tunes of "Ta-ra-ra-boom- 
de-ay" and "Daisy, Daisy." Both of these songs seem to 
be very popular among the natives. I was, however, bun- 



— 183 — 



coed with this talisman ; the only tempter I can keep away 
when I put it on my head is my wife, who says I look too 
ugly then to be approached. 

At nine o'clock in the evening the "India" weighed an- 
chor again, and soon the few shore lights of Aden disap- 
peared in the darkness. On the evening of the next day 




In the Harbor of Colombo, Ceylon. 

we passed Cape Gardafui, the easternmost point of Africa, 
and on the following forenoon the great island of Sokotra 
came in view. I should have liked to visit this strange 
island which has, as yet, not been thoroughly explored, 
and my glance rested with interest on the mysterious coast 
as long as its hazy outline was visible on the horizon. 



— 184 — 



We were now in the Indian Ocean. The weather during 
the next few days remained steady and clear. The sea 
was as smooth as I had never seen it before, and the tem- 
perature during the day was bearable. The nights, how- 
ever, to be pleasant, could have been somewhat cooler. 
The monotony of the ocean was broken only from time 
to time by the appearance of a distant funnel or sail, and 
the best thing to do was to dream the days away, sleeping 
and reading and looking for the airiest places on deck. 

In the late afternoon hours prize competitions in various 
sports and games were held, in which principally the. 
younger passengers participated, for even here the British 
stiffness affected all non-Britons so that the latter were 
satisfied to remain spectators. Neither did any of the 
ship's officers participate in the sports when off duty. 
However, the regulations of the P. & O. Steamship Com- 
pany are very strict. They enjoin the officers from taking 
part in the amusements of passengers or to enter into 
lengthy conversations with them. These regulations are 
not only strictly followed, but the officers go not unfre- 
quently so far that the brusque answers which one some- 
times receives from them in answer to a polite question 
come very near being insulting. The treatment of passen- 
gers on the steamers of the P. & O. line is altogether un- 
satisfactory, especially if one considers the high passage 
rates exacted from cabin passengers. In strong contrast 
to the German and Austrian Orient lines, where polite- 
ness of die officers, excellent fare and service are the 
rule, the P. & O. Company seems to regard their passen- 
gers as milch cows, which for mediocre food and indiffer- 
ent attention are supposed to furnish good dividend 
cream. It has become proverbial among the travelers on 
this line that its steamers are not made for the passengers, 
but "he passengers for them. The increasing competition 



— 185 — 



of other lines is, in consequence of this policy, already cut- 
ting deeply into the former monopoly of the P. & O. Com- 
pany, and the instinct of self-preservation will eventually 
force it to adopt the necessary reforms. 

On the day before our arrival in Colombo, one of the 
numerous Lakhedive Islands came in view, and the sight 
of land made many a passenger shake off his lethargy. 
The excitement, however, lasted only a short time and 
soon things proceeded again in the same old sleepy way. 
At last, on the following morning, Ceylon, the Gem of 
the Indian Ocean, rose like a slight mist out of the blue 
waves. Gradually the outlines of the shore became clearer 
and clearer. At noon the details appeared more distinctly 
and soon after, Colombo the Beautiful lay before us. With 
pleasure I listened to the rattling of the anchor into the 
deep. 



XII. 

In the Harbor of Colombo. — Catamarans. — Sharks 
and Divers. — Hotels in Ceylon. — Crows as Execu- 
tioners. — Jugglers. — Tropical Street Views. — Mo- 
hammedan Jewelers. — Peculiar Vehicles. — The 
Cinnamon Gardens. — The Cocoanut Palm. — Ridic- 
ulous Caste Spirit Among Servants. 

The first view which the traveler gains of Ceylon, com- 
ing by sea to Colombo, is decidedly disappointing. A 
long, flat coast, the background of which is formed by 
hazy blue chains of hills, stretches from north to south, 
and only after the steamer has entered the harbor, which 
is protected by a gigantic mole, can the rows of buildings 
and the luxuriant cocoa plantations along the shore be 
discerned.. But life in the harbor itself is picturesque and 
interesting in the highest degree. Steamers and sailing 
vessels of all nations are lying at anchor (Colombo is a 
main port for all Eastern-Asiatic and Australian steamer 
lines, which have their coaling stations here), and numer- 
ous small boats of most peculiar and varied shapes are 
furrowing the dark blue water. Among the latter the so- 
called Catamarans are especially striking. These are ex- 
ceedingly narrow boats, with steep sides, the most con- 
spicuous feature of which are two long poles connected 
with a floating log, the object of which is to prevent cap- 
sizing which otherwise would be unavoidable in the 
slightest swell. A catamaran is ordinarily manned by two 
natives, who use spade-shaped oars, and contains one or 
two small benches in the center for passengers, who sit 
cramped in this narrow space behind each other, being 



— 187 



only protected by a small awning from the burning sun 
of the tropics. In the prevailing heat one envies the un- 
avoidable, half-naked fellows in their primitive boats 
(three roughly-hewn logs, pointed at both sides and con- 
nected with ropes), who, in kneeling position and using 
split bamboos for oars, row around the steamer offering 
to dive for coins. The college yell of these Singhalese 




Street in Colombo. 



students of deep sea silver fishing is "di ! di ! di !" i. e., 
dive ! dive ! dive ! in incessant repetition. This kind of 
diving has by this time ceased to be novel or entertaining 
and I shall from now on prefer to "sink" my money in a 
more practical way. That the water is more dangerous 
for these poor boys than in Aden is proven by the muti- 
lated limbs of several divers, the missing parts of which 



— 188 — 



have evidently found their last resting-place in the stom- 
achs of voracious sharks. Since the skin of the native 
Singhalese is of dark brown shade, one is compelled to 
attribute to the Ceylon sharks a fine sense of discrimina- 
tion which enables them to make a distinction between a 
Singhalese or Tamil and a negro. 

While preparations for landing are made native tailors 
board the steamer for the purpose of soliciting orders for 
Khaki and white linen suits from the passengers. They 
carry samples with them, and since their work is good and 
delivered within twenty-four hours, they are doing a 
thriving business. Mr. Hoy and I ordered each three 
complete garments, among them white dress suits, which 
were delivered to us thirty-six hours later at the hotel and 
the average price of which was only a little over ten 
shillings. 

The "India" had anchored at a considerable distance 
from the shore and we landed in a small steamer. The 
custom house difficulties were only slight and we were 
soon seated at a good "tiffin" (luncheon) in the semi-dark 
dining-room of the Grand Oriental Hotel, enjoying the 
view of the sunny harbor and the cooling air waves pro- 
duced by numerous electrical punkahs. I wonder what 
they would do here without punkahs? One needs them 
everywhere; in the dining-room, in the easy chair on the 
veranda, and at night over the bed, it is they alone that 
make life bearable. The two best hotels in Colombo cater- 
ing to white tourists are the "Grand Oriental" and the 
"Gall Face," both of which are furnished with the com- 
forts usual in the tropics. Suitable to the climate the 
hotel rooms contain no carpets or rugs. The beds are sur- 
rounded by mosquito nettings and one sleeps with open 
doors on hard mattresses and pillows. The service con- 
sists exclusively of bare-footed male Singhalese in white 



— 189 — 



clothes. Four meals are furnished. The first one (early 
tea) is served in the early morning in the room, and is 
generally taken on the closed private veranda "en negli- 
gee." It is followed bv breakfast between nine and ten ; 
tiffin is taken between twelve and two, and dinner at eight 
o'clock in the evening. The etiquette at the last meal is 
strict, even black dress suits being seen occasionally in 
spite of the torrid heat. The menu always contains nu- 
merous curries, which, by the way, taste much better here 
than in England or America. 

What we noticed first in Colombo were the extremely 
red color of the soil in the streets near the harbor and 
the numerous crows, the croaking of which in the early 
morning disturbs the deepest slumber. The latter are so 
fearless and greedy that at breakfast on the private ver- 
anda they often snatch the food from the table in the pres- 
ence of the eater. We remarked, however, that the crows 
of Colombo make themselves useful as mice-catchers. 
There are plenty of the little rodents in the hotels and 
sinct the servants, without exception, are Buddhists, who 
regard the killing of an animal as sinful, they would rap- 
idly increase were it not that the crows take the sin of 
killing them on their own black consciences. The mice 
are caught alive in traps, and it is funny to see the kitchen 
servants appear on the street every little while holding 
by the tail a squirming mouse, which they are careful to 
deposit where the waiting birds can quickly catch it. 

Even on the first afternoon of our sojourn in Colombo 
we had occasion to admire in front of the hotel the jug- 
gling art of an Indian fakir, who, among other feats, per- 
formed the celebrated trick of the growing mango tree. 
This, like many others, appeared to us quite wonderful, 
until several days later, upon payment of a few rupees, 
I learned the trick with several others from a fakir in 



— 190 — 



Kandy. This made me more sceptical about certain mi- 
raculous tricks of which I had heard, like the one where 
a rope is thrown into the air on which a Hindoo boy 
climbs up and apparently disappears into space. This 
trick no Colombo fakir could perform, but I hoped to get 
a chance to see it in India if it existed outside of the im- 
aginative brain of exaggerating travelers. 

Colombo is not large and the European quarter, called 
"Fort," contains no buildings of prominence outside of 
Queen's House, the residence of the Governor, and the 
stately post-office. But the streets of the "Fort" and es- 
pecially those in the thickly populated native quarters of 
Pettah" and "Colpetty" are crowded with picturesque 
figures. From clearest white to darkest black, all shades 
of the human skin are represented. And just as varie- 
gated are the color tones of the gay costumes. The most 
conspicuous figures are the Singhalese with their long, 
deep-black hair, knotted in the back and adorned by a 
crescent-shaped comb on the top of the skull. The gener- 
ally delicate and feminine expression of the faces of the 
men roused a suspicion in nie that some of the bearded 
ladies which one sees in European and American shows 
may be simply lighter colored natives of Ceylon. The 
dark-skinned Tamil, marked by circular white spots on 
forehead and ears, the Tamil woman, always with several 
nose rings and pierced ear lobes, which are stretched by 
the weight of heavy ear-rings to such a degree that one 
may easily put two fingers through the hole ; the smoothly- 
shaven Moor, and the half-naked Rikshaw boys, as well 
as the yellow-clothed Buddha priests with the inevitable 
sunshades, are all highly interesting types. 

Characteristic of Colombo are the Mohammedan jewel- 
ers, who have their stores in the arcades of the Grand 
Hotel. Immediately after arrival of steamer passengers 



- 191 - 



they appear on the hotel veranda, their pockets bulging 
with packages, in order to offer their bijouterie with irre- 
sistible persistency. Like hawks on a dying victim, these 
bare-foote4 sons of Mohammed, their smoothly-shaven 
heads covered by high, silk-embroidered caps, rush upon 




Mohammedan Jewelers in Colombo. 

the harmless passenger, and it takes patience and equal 
persistency to repulse their attacks on your purse. f 

Among the vehicles on the streets, the small, two- 
wheeled rikshaws are most conspicuous. They are drawn 
by half-naked fleet-footed natives and form the principal 
means of transport for the European population. A small 
steer with short horns and big hump harnessed to a light 



— 192 — 



vehicle also serves for passenger transport, but my experi- 
ence teaches me to warn every one against the use of this 
vehicle. Although the steer can take a rapid pace if it 
pleases him, he does this only under continuous, ear-split- 
ting yells of the driver, who belabors the hind part of the 
animal with his fists, twisting his tail from time to time 
and even biting it when the animal proves too obstinate. 
Truck service is performed principally by the "tonga," a 
wagon covered with a high palm-leaf roof and drawn by 
two white Zebus. 

Children are carried on the hips, and men perform this 
task with the same parental affection as women. The lat- 
ter, however, are not often encountered in the streets. 

The vegetable as well as the fish markets of Colombo 
are quite attractive, although in point of cleanliness one 
must not be too particular. They first astonish by their 
great wealth of tropical fruits and vegetables, while the 
latter are conspicuous by the great variety of fish on the 
counters. Among others young sharks are sold, the meat 
of which, according to the natives, is quite palatable. If 
the sharks could speak, they would possibly return the 
compliment. The butcher trade is followed exclusively 
by Mohammedans, since the religion of the Singhalese 
Buddhists forbids them to kill any kind of an animal. 

The venders of beth£l, which is much chewed here, are 
generally women, who sell the disgusting mixture squat- 
ting on the ground under shady trees. This mixture is 
composed of the leaf and chopped-up nut of the Bethel or 
Areca palm, some tobacco and "chunaam" (a chalky 
mass). It tints the teeth and lips of the chewer a dark 
orange or reddish color. 

Few distractions are offered to strangers and European 
settlers in Colombo. There are no regular theaters, and 
it is only rarely that dramatic performances are given by 



— 193 — 



traveling English troupes, who occasionally stop here for 
a few days on their way to Australia. As in all English 
colonies, there is a good club in the city which, however, 
is not open to strangers unless they have letters of intro- 
duction. Some fine excursions can be made in the vicinity, 
among which one to the Cinnamon Gardens is much 




Bullock Cart in Colombo. 



favored. I was somewhat disappointed in these gardens 
of which I had formed quite a different picture. The 
cinnamon trees here are hardly more than large shrubs 
growing to a height of six or eight feet, while in an uncul- 
tivated state they attain a considerable size. We were told 
that the small trees were cultivated because they furnish 



— 194 — 



a more superior article of commerce than could be gained 
from larger ones. I have tasted the tender bark of these 
trees, but the strong aroma contained in the bark of com- 
merce was absent, although the young shoot had an agree- 
able spicy taste and odor. Mt. Lavinia, a sea-shore hotel 
about seven miles distant from Colombo, is one of the 
prettiest spots in the vicinity, and the road leading there 
offers a fine opportunity to admire the luxuriant tropical 
vegetation of Ceylon. 

The cocoa-palm is the most numerous and popular tree 
of the island. It is a real blessing to the native population 
whom it furnishes with food, lodging and clothing. There 
is hardly another tree in existence which is of such gen- 
eral utility as the cocoa-palm, the slender, graceful shape 
of which, also, adds much to the charm of tropical land- 
scapes. Its green fruit furnishes the poor native his milk ; 
the dried nut gives him solid food and vessels to keep it 
in. From the sap of the trunk he makes sugar and alco- 
holic liquids. The wood and the foliage are used in build- 
ing and roofing his hut. Of the leaves he also makes fans 
and mattings. With the oil which he presses from the nut 
he cooks his food, fills his lamps and anoints his hair. 
From the fibre he weaves clothing, sails, hats, nets, and a 
hundred other articles too numerous to mention. 

On the way to Mt. Lavinia our carriage was followed 
by a crowd of naked children, whose cries of "Papa — 

mamma, give me a penny!" did not cease until a few cop- 
pers had been thrown to the most importunate ones run- 
ning at the side of the carriage. Mr. and Mrs. Hoy, who 
are childless, naturally felt highly flattered at such affec 
tionate filial ejaculations, and had I not dissuaded them 
from throwing more money at the little beggars, we should 
have had their paradisiacal escort all the way to Mt. 
Lavinia. 



— 195 — 



Very peculiar are the conditions relating to housework 
in the bungalows of the acclimated Europeans where the 
lady of the house is entirely dependent on the numerous 
servants absolutely necessary here, even in the smallest 
households. A white lady cannot perform any kind of 
menial work, and ten or twelve servants in a small family 




A Singhalese 

are not uncommon. The spirit of caste among the native 
servants borders on the ridiculous. The cook, for exam- 
ple, thinks it below his dignity to serve at the table or to 
clean his kitchen ; for the latter purpose he keeps a pri- 
vate coolie; the "boy" (as all servants are called) who 
cleans the room will not wash the windows; the rikshaw 



— 196 — 



boy will not clean the clothes of his master and the Ayah 
(nurse) would not dream of making a bed, etc. "Against 
my caste" is their invariable answer if they are requested 
to do some work which is outside of their specified duties. 
Since a white lady cannot go to market without being 
outrageously cheated, the purchase of provisions is en- 
trusted to the cook, who receives for this purpose a daily 
sum for which he has to account every evening. To try 
and stop the unavoidable small pilferings by discharging 
the offender would be useless, for one cook will cheat 
like the other, and in the end they still buy the provisions 
cheaper than a lady could do herself. The wages, as may 
be expected, are very low, and the servants have to find 
their own food and lodging. Their requirements in re- 
gard to nourishment, however, are very modest, and the 
climate permits them to lodge with Mother Nature if they 
cannot find better quarters. A lady whose guest I was 
one evening, showed me a small outhouse in her garden, 
used to store gardening tools, etc., in a corner of which 
her rikshaw boy and his bride of six weeks had gone to 
housekeeping. A mat on the floor and a few cooking 
utensils formed the whole outfit. Judging by the smiling 
expression of the young wife, she seemed to be perfectly 
happy and if the German poet's assertion that "for a lov- 
ing couple there is room in the smallest hut" ever can be 
taken literally, it was evidently true in this case, 



XIII. 



Excursion to Kandy. — The Shrine of the Tooth. — 
The Paradeniya Gardens. — Elephant Procession 
and Devil-Dancers. — Kandyan Chiefs. — Ali Feh- 
mi Pasha. 

My stay in Ceylon was limited to about two weeks, and 
much as I should have liked to visit the less known inte- 
rior districts of the island, the enervating climate of Col- 
ombo had made me so apathetic, that outside of the early 
morning hours and the cooler evenings I spent my days 
near the electric punkah in my room or in the bath-tub. 
However, I did not miss the beautiful excursion which 
my Danish friends had planned to Kandy, the ancient 
Singhalese capital. 

Kandy is situated about seventy miles inland and is, on 
account of its altitude, a much more agreeable abode than 
Colombo. The journey by rail is short, lasting somewhat 
less than four hours, and the landscape which may be 
admired from the train is more than charming. Soon 
after the bridge over the Kelani Ganga is passed, the up 
grade begins and the continuously changing panorama 
shows alternately numerous rice fields dotted with natives 
and small buffaloes, shady palm groves, picturesque lonely 
valleys, steep precipices, wooded hills, and in the distance, 
— ever growing more distinct,- — the rugged peaks of the 
high mountains in the interior of the island. 

The train is comfortable, having even a dining-car, and 
stops only at a few stations, the names of which are al- 
ways designated in the English, Singhalese and Tamil 
languages. At these stations most delicious fruit, such 



— 198 — 



as mangoes, bananas, pineapples, jack fruit, pepoi, etc., 
may be purchased for a song, and these tropical delicacies 
look so appetizing that one cannot withstand the tempta- 
tion to try them. Among the fruits unknown to me the 
pepois and the mangoes tasted best. The latter have an 
incomparable flavor, which seems to be a mixture of all 
finer fruits. If, as the Singhalese assert, Ceylon is really 
the site of the biblical Paradise, then it must be believed 
that the mango was the forbidden fruit which Eve could 
not resist. To enjoy a mango thoroughly one should eat 
it clad in fig leaves, or in the bath-tub, for after peeling 
it the luscious meat, as slippery as an eel, keeps two hands 
busy retaining it. 

Kandy is surrounded by gently sloping hills, and its 
picturesque situation is probably surpassed by few cities 
in the world. Its most important building is the gov- 
ernor's summer palace, but the stranger is infinitely more 
interested in the Queen's Hotel, a hostelry the excellent 
management of which invites to a longer stay. Immedi- 
ately in front of this hotel stretches the shining surface of 
the sacred lake, the shores of which are fenced in by an 
elaborate stone balustrade. In the middle of the lake 
rises a small palm-grown islet, opposite to which and close 
to the shore is situated the celebrated "Shrine of the 
Tooth." This is a temple in which one of the most revered 
relics of Buddhism, a real tooth from the mouth of 
Buddha, is preserved. Admission to the temple is freely 
granted, but an "obolus" is demanded at almost every 
step. A small bridge over a narrow inlet of the lake, 
which teems with sacred fish and turtles, leads to the en- 
trance, which is always surrounded by crippled beggars 
and hawkers of wax candles and flowers, of which the 
latter disseminate an overpowering odor. Upon entering 
a smoothly-shaven priest in a yellow robe holds out to the 



— 199 — 



visitor a plate containing a silver rupee serving as a decoy, 
but a ten-cent piece will answer the purpose. This guide 
now explains in broken English the horrid frescoes in the 
first hall, which represent the different punishments of hell 
for the various sins committed by men. In the second 
hall, the door of which is formed by an antique piece of 




A Tamil t,ady 



sculpture, another obolus is demanded, and here beautiful 
flowers which serve as offerings to Buddha are sold. 
From here one enters a smaller room through a richly- 
gilded and painted door, the sides of which are ornamented 
by sculptured lions and tremendous elephant tusks. An 
iron safe in this room contains a rich gold umbrella, and 



— 200 — 



several priests and temple servants, the latter in plate- 
shaped white hats, busy themselves at tables covered with 
heaps of white flowers. A small stairways leads to the 
upper story and to the holiest of holies, the door of which 
is carved in ivory. The odor of flowers and incense is 
suffocating, and after having admired the silver table and 
the golden shrine which contains seven small caskets, the 
last of which is said to enclose the sacred tooth, one is 
glad to escape through a small open space into the temple 
library, from the round balcony of which one may have a 
charming view of the sacred lake and the surrounding 
mountains. The library contains many interesting manu- 
scripts written on prepared palm leaves, strung on cords, 
and bound in richly decorated wood or ivory covers. Hav- 
ing examined everything conscientiously, I asked the 
priest and the temple servant for permission to take a 
snap-shot at them in the courtyard, to which they con- 
sented without any reluctance, upon payment of a bak- 
sheesh. 

However instructive a visit to this temple may be, the 
Paradeniya Gardens, the 150 acre botanical park of 
Kandy, surrounded on three sides by the Mahavili Ganga, 
are a sight of far greater interest, the like of which prob- 
ably no other city in the world, except Singapore, may 
boast. Neither the Hoys nor I were botanists, but in spite 
of this disadvantage we delighted in the view of this rare 
and luxuriant vegetation, which is not only pleasing to the 
eye, but also to the sense of smell, for besides the rarest 
orchids and palms there grow here all the spice trees and 
— but I better stop or else I betray too much of my igno- 
rance of this magnificent world of plants. However, one 
thing will have to be mentioned : We stood here under an 
Upas tree and our intelligent Singhalese guide assured us 



— 201 — 



that, contrary to common belief, there was no danger 
whatever in falling asleep under it. 

The landscape in the vicinity of Kandy is most charm- 
ing, and since the heat is not as oppressive as in Colombo, 
one may enjoy the beautiful drives over the mountain 
roads which are named after English ladies, like Lady 




The Shrine of the Tooth, Kandy. 



Gordon's and Lady Walker's Drives. Especially enjoy- 
able is the latter, which leads to the shore of the Mahavili 
Ganga where the holy elephants are stabled which play an 
important part in the religious processions of the Budd- 
hists. We saw these elephants when they were taking 
their daily bath in the river, where they were spouting 



— 202 — 



through their trunks streams of water over their broad 
backs while the attendants cleansed their thick skins with 
stiff wire brushes. We had no chance to witness one of 
these processions which form an important part in the 
religious festivals of Kandy, and the following description 
is taken from the report of an English correspondent in 




Bamboo in the Paradeniya Gardens, Kandy. 



the suite of the present Prince of Wales during the lat- 
ter 's sojourn in Ceylon : 

"It was dark when the performers began to assemble at 
the entrance to the pavillion grounds — a long line of men 
and animals in fantastic dress. The air flamed with 
torches and reeked with cocoanut oil, and thousands of 
natives filled the lanes with a medley of color. Their 



— 203 — 



royal highnesses, having dined, came out upon the bal- 
cony of the white house with the massive white pillars. 
The gardens were shrouded in blackness and silence. Sud- 
denly from the distance came the sound of the tom-tom 
and the shrill note of the chettey-pipe. 

"There is a subtle sameness in all eastern music. The 
tom-tom and the pipe of the devil dancer were in my ears 




as the echo of the dervish drum and omobeina sounding 
the charge of Omdurman. The head of the procession 
appeared. It was a white elephant on a cart drawn by a 
patient bullock and attended by a headman in flat, round 
cap. One was naturally curious to learn why this very 
obvious property animal should have the place of honor, 
seeing that so many magnificent beasts were behind. 



— 204 — 



'Because it is beautiful/ said the head man, hiding under 
an air of grave courtesy his surprise that anyone should 
doubt its claim to be leader. 

"Noisily and slowly the procession unfolded itself in 
waves of yellow light from hundreds of long torches held 
by brown-skinned Singhalese. The order of their coming 
was after this fashion : First walked a company of men 
in loose robes of white and red, or clad only in camboy or 
waist-cloth, the light gleaming on their shining bodies. 
Behind them marched three elephants in rich trappings, 
the middle and largest one having a crimson, gold- 
embroidered cloth drawn over his head, leaving only eyes 
and ears uncovered. On their heels whirled the devil 
dancers — lithe figures stripped to the waist, the perspira- 
tion streaming from their dark bodies as they leaped and 
turned, chanting a strange monotonous chant to the beat- 
ing of drum and the shrieking of pipe. Some were chil- 
dren, others white-haired, of a solemn countenance that 
was grotesquely out of harmony with their strange antics. 
No chief of any pride and dignity would deign to appear 
in these processions without his devil dancers. I do not 
know whether rank is measured by the number or by the 
energy of the dancers. It was none the less manifest that 
distinctions exist even in the devil worshipers, for the 
number, the dress and the noise seemed to be in proportion 
to the gravity and magnificence of the chieftains who fol- 
lowed these cyclones of color and sound. 

"The Kandyan chief may be a handsome and even an 
imposing man. He has the dignified solemnity of the 
Turk and the beard of the prophet. His dress, too, is 
splendid. In the days of the kings it was simple white, 
but since they can no longer be courtiers at home, the 
chiefs have put on the dress of their kings. Around the 
waist are wound nearly sixty yards of white silk, em- 



— 205 — 



broidered with crimson and gold. The many folds are 
gathered at the waist into a great bulk and end in gold 
fringes that fall over white linen trousers with broad 
frilled edges. The feet are bare, but on the head is a hat 
in shape not unlike a shrine, and in wealth of gold and 
gems not unworthy the altar of some saint. The upper 
part of the body is clothed in a zouave jacket, richly em- 
broidered in red and gold, and worn over a white-frilled 




Devil Dancers. 

shirt. Each chief has on the second finger of the right 
hand a ring of enormous size, resembling in shape the 
apostolic ring of the pope. 

"The chiefs walked in lines of six or seven between the 
elephants and devil dancers and torch-bearers. When 
they drew near to the balcony, there was a short halt and 
the procession, turning to the left, re-formed in front of 
the pavillion. The elephants ranged themselves in line on 
the green lawn, that shone a strangely vivid green in the 



— 206 — 



light of the torches. The devil dancers gathered together 
in the center and gave themselves up to a frenzied whirl. 
Not the dancing dervishes of Damascus, nor the howling 
dervishes of Berber., could excel them in antics and noise 
as they perspired and turned and threw themselves into 
the air with an energy and an abandon that had at least 
the semblance of religious frenzy. Their exertions were 
rewarded by a few words of thanks from the duke, who 
declared himself greatly pleased and interested." 

In certain parts of Ceylon there are still existing some 
wild elephants, and a kind of spotted tiger called "Chit- 
tah" roams in considerable number the distant woods of 
the interior. While the latter, if I am not mistaken, may 
be hunted without restriction, it is necessary for an ele- 
phant hunt to secure a special permit from the governor's 
office, for which a license fee of 100 rupees has to be paid. 
But even with such a permit one is allowed to shoot one 
elephant only, and since such a hunt is otherwise connected 
with considerable expense, there are not many amateur 
sportsmen who come to Ceylon for this sport. To the lat- 
ter Africa still offers more and better opportunities. This 
explains the comparatively high prices which, for example, 
are asked in Colombo and Kandy for elephant's feet, 
which, by the removal of flesh and bones, are made into 
original cane and umbrella stands. Seventy-five to one 
hundred rupess are charged and paid for these. Chittah 
skins are not excessively dear, but the price for a fine 
'Royal tiger skin in Ceylon, and even in India, is 500 to 
1,000 rupees. 

We left the serene and peaceful mountain capital after 
a sojourn of several days, since Mr. and Mrs. Hoy wished 
to embark on a certain steamer for Singapore. On the 
way down to Colombo we made the acquaintance of an 
interesting traveling companion, Ali Fehmi Pasha, one of 



- 207 — 



the Egyptian generate who were banished to Ceylon after 
the suppression of the Egyptian revolt in 1882. From 
him we learned, among other information, that of the 
seven exiles who at the time had been brought to Ceylon, 
only Arabi and himself were living, both residing at 
Kandy. Speaking of the English he expressed himself 
very favorably, paying a high tribute to their merits in 




Kandyan Chiefs (Four Brothers). 



regard to the progress and civilization of Egypt. Since 
our meeting with Ali Fehmi, he, as well as Arabi Pasha, 
have received permission to return to their native land, 
and it is my belief that the English government has made 
friends out of these formerly irreconcilable enemies who 
will be valuable aids in the further work of development 
in Egypt. 



XIV. 



Tropical Heat. — On the "Valetta." — Phileas Fogg 
II. — Caloo. — Entrance into the Hooghli River. — 
Disagreeable Roommates. — Calcutta Observa- 
tions. — A Giant Tree. — In a Parsee Theatre. — 
Native Respect for White Race. — The Howrah 
Bridge. — The Bathing Ghats. — Burning of Plague 
Bodies. — Kalighat. — Fight Between Cobra and 
Mongoose. 

Before I left Colombo, newspapers and travelers had 
repeatedly stated that not only the plague, but cholera 
and small-pox were raging in a fearful manner, both in 
Calcutta, which city I next intended to visit, and in other 
parts of India. Luckily, I am not afraid of epidemics, 
and, having learned from travelers with much experience 
in the Orient that the danger to the European population 
was not especially great, as these diseases select their vic- 
tims mainly from the dirtiest native quarters, this informa- 
tion did not induce me to change my plans of travel. 

I took passage on the steamer "Valetta," which was 
to make the voyage from Colombo to Calcutta in four to 
five days. During all that time the weather was as favor- 
able as it had been during the voyage from Ismailia to 
Colombo, but the heat in the Bay of Bengal was by far 
greater than any I had every experienced before at sea. 
Although I had not exposed myself for a minute to the 
sun, the effects of the hot wind, which seemed like a blast 
from a furnace, were such that large strips of the outer 
epidermis were peeling off my face and hands by the time 
we arrived in Calcutta. 



— 209 — 



The company on the steamer was not numerous and 
consisted mostly of American globe-trotters who had come 
to Ceylon by way of San Francisco and Japan. There 
was one family on board whom I had noticed at the 
Queen's Hotel during my sojourn in Kandy, and they 
were the only persons I had any desire to get acquainted 




Garriwalla and Caloo. 



with. They were Mr. H , a banker from the State of 

New York, his wife, daughter and son. We met after- 
ward again several times, in various Indian cities, and I 
must confess I should have gladly attached myself to their 
party, which intended to follow the same traveling route 
as I did, had not another traveling companion been repug- 



— 210 — 



nant to me who stuck to the H 's like a leech which 

they could not, or would not, shake off. This was a Mr. 
K...., a disagreeable individual, whose loud voice and 
vulgar manners in general made him exceedingly distaste- 
ful to all. His temper was, besides, so irascible and chol- 
eric that it nearly made the milk sour at the breakfast 
table. To all these good qualities he added that of the 
greatest cowardice. 

My neighbor at the table was an original. He was a 
tall, stout, and jovial-looking man, who was on a vacation 
trip around the world, in such haste as to make one sus- 
pect that he intended to rob Phileas Fogg of his laurels. 
He limited his sojourn in India to five days, in which, as 
he assured the company, he would see more than any other 
traveler in five weeks. Withal, it was his intention to go 
from Calcutta to Bombay via Delhi, and to make stops 
not only in these cities, but also in Benares, Agra and 
Jeypore. How he did it I do not know, but his name at- 
tached to a certain date which I later found inscribed in 
the register of the Esplanade Hotel in Bombay, proved 
that he had really arrived in the latter city on the sixth 
day after our landing in Calcutta. I suppose, however, 
that he could hardly have paid attention to anything out- 
side the table d'hote meals at the hotels, since eating and 
drinking was his greatest weakness. He ate like Gargan- 
tua and complained about his appetite. His familiarity 
knew no bounds. Being introduced to other gentlemen, he 
never thought of adding the prefix "Mr." in addressing 
his new acquaintances. He simply used the family name, 
and if, in the course of time, he had a chance to learn it, 
frequently only the Christian name. 

My most important discovery on the "Valetta" was 
Caloo, a native of Calcutta, whose services I engaged for 
my proposed overland trip through India, as it is almost 



— 211 — 



impossible to get along without such a servant in the cen- 
tral part of the country. Caloo was a Mohammedan, slav- 
ishly servile and as honest as an Indian servant can be. He 
was fairly useful and willing as long as he was not 
ordered to render services which he considered hard 
work, such as the carrying of baggage in and out of 




The Howrah Bridge in Calcutta. 



steamers, vehicles, etc. His main occupation was to bring 
early tea to my bed, wait on me at the table, assist 
me in my bath and to keep my clothes and shoes in good 
order. I had no reason to doubt his honesty or his iden- 
tity, the latter of which had been established without 
question by a peculiar mark, a scar on his left cheek, 



— 212 — 



which was specially pointed out in his testimonials. (It 
is a general custom in India to add personal descriptions 
to testimonials of private servants, as these documents are 
often misused by the servants exchanging or loaning them 
to each other.) Caloo's attentions were such that he did 
not even allow me to cross the street or to dismount from 
my carriage without holding a parasol over my head, and 
at night he slept, wrapped in a blanket, like a faithful dog 
on the threshold of my door. For all these services Caloo 
received a salary of one rupee and four annas (about 40 
cents) per day with which he had to find his own food, 
and I paid royally, according to Indian ideas. He was of 
not much use as a guide, but his knowledge of the country 
and its people, and the circumstance that he spoke English 
fairly well, enabled me sometimes to make use of his ser- 
vices even in that capacity. 

We reached the mouth of the Hooghli River, one of the 
numerous arms of the Ganges on which Calcutta lies, at 
low tide, and during a short anchoring the Lascars threw 
out a shark-line. In the expectation of some good sport, 
the passengers congregated at the stern end of the 
steamer, but the monsters of the deep would not bite, and 
thus we missed the exciting spectacle of catching a shark 
with hook and line. 

After the monotony of the glassy surface of the Bay 
of Bengal, the view of the green palm-grown shores, the 
peculiar Indian boats with their standing oarsmen and 
the numerous birds of prey which enliven the river, 
proved very agreeable, while the "Valetta" slowly drew 
up stream the distance of eighty to one hundred miles 
from the mouth of the Hooghli to the city. The custom- 
house examination was soon finished, and a short drive in 
a box-like vehicle brought us to the Grand Hotel. 

The room assigned to me was very large and con- 



— 213 — 



tained, outside of a twenty-foot punkah and the usual 
furniture, a bird's nest in a hollow corner of the wooden 
rafters of the ceiling, occupied by two sparrows, which 
did not seem to be disturbed in the least by my appear- 
ance. Several small lizards were also crawling content- 
edly up and down the walls. Of the presence of other 




A Native Policeman. 

small animals in the room I became conscious during the 
following night. Later experience taught me that one 
must get used to such things during an Indian journey. 
The adjoining bathroom contained, outside of a peculiar 
tin tub, in which a bath could be taken only by throwing 



— 214 — 



the water over one's head and body, another necessary 
piece of furniture which had to be removed and returned 
every day and which, although it was used by our grand- 
fathers, has been discarded in our time by all civilized 
nations. I mention this once for all, as I found the same 
arrangement in all other Indian hotel rooms that I had 
occasion to occupy. 

Comparing Calcutta to other Indian cities from an 
architectural point of view, it is devoid of interest. 
Although a new city, most of the buildings appear old 
and greatly neglected. The only exceptions are the Vice 
Royal. Palace within a well-kept park, the High Court of 
Justice, Writer's Building and a few larger houses on the 
European thoroughfares, Chowringhee Road and Es- 
planade Row. The Great Maidan, a gigantic square, 
sparsely grown with trees, in the middle of which rises 
an observation tower, is adorned by various statues of 
English generals and serves the native population as a 
pleasure resort. One may see here of an evening Hindoo 
boys playing tennis and football, riding bicycles, and in 
general imitating the sports of the Sahibs. 

The Eden Gardens on the river are reserved for the 
higher classes, and it is hither that every evening between 
five and seven o'clock a stream of the fashionable world of 
Calcutta is directed, to enjoy the cool of the evening and 
the concerts of the Military Band. The streets leading to 
the gardens are extremely dusty, which condition need 
cause no wonder when one considers the primitive way in 
which the sprinkling is done by coolies with pails and 
goat skins. The Zoological Garden is nicely laid out, but 
is vastly excelled in the number and variety of animals 
contained therein by similar European institutions. The 
interesting Botanical Garden situated several miles out- 
side of Calcutta contains, among other remarkable things, 



— 215 — 



a giant Banyan tree whose crown of foliage measures 
nearly iooo feet in circumference, and this alone is worth 
a visit. 

Of historical sights Calcutta has none. The celebrated 
"Black Hole" in which, during the revolt of June 20, 
1756, one hundred and forty-six English prisoners were 




Burning of Plague Bodies ; First Stage. 

squeezed into a space twenty feet square, so that only 
twenty-three of them survived the first night, has been 
demolished during the building of the new postoffice, and 
only the paved floor of this horrible dungeon is preserved 
at present. 



— 216 — 



Calcutta is poor in European pleasure resorts. For 
over a year and a half a German-Bohemian Ladies' Band 
had performed in an English and American bar, but I 
could not make out how these poor girls can make their 
living, since they are generally in the majority as against 
the audience. Undoubtedly of more interest than the few 
European resorts are those of the native population, al- 
though a visit to them is always connected with small and 
unavoidable annoyances. 

One evening we visited a Parsee theatre, in which a 
play adapted from the English was brought on the stage 
in such a manner that I was shaking with laughter dur- 
ing the whole performance, although the play was sup- 
posed to be a drama. The orchestra consisted of two 
squeaking organ-shaped instruments which were partly 
hidden behind the scenes on either side of the stage, and 
a tom-tom/ which was beaten somewhere in the back- 
ground. This background represented, by the way, the 
city of Venice, with numerous gondolas surrounded by 
snow-covered mountains. The accommodations for the 
audience consisted of the ground floor parquet and a bal- 
cony. The interior of the boxes was hidden by old lace 
curtains, through the holes of which one could occasion- 
ally see a pair of black eyes or brown hands. The actors 
were mostly very young people, and the endless dialogues 
were chanted in a most ridiculous manner. The curtain 
went down after every act by magnesium light and with 
such slowness that it seemed wonderful how the actors 
could remain immovable for such a long time in their 
statuesque poses. 

During our perambulations by carriage (one does not 
walk here) through the streets of Calcutta, my special 
attention was attracted by the fact that the native police 
and soldiers saluted every decently dessed European, and 



— 217 — 



it even happened that sentinels presented arms to me. I 
was told that the English have ever been careful to teach 
the native population due respect for Europeans in gen- 
eral. In this they have certainly succeeded admirably, 
and the submissiveness which the lower classes show 
in their intercourse with the Sahibs, easily demonstrates 
how it is possible for the English to govern such a large 
and thickly populated country with a handful of white 
soldiers and civil officials, even in such dangerous times 
as during the first period of the South African war. 

The narrow streets of the native quarters are full of 
interest for those who have not seen other Indian cities, 
and it is generally far better to stroll through them on 
foot. This, however, was not advisable during our so- 
journ in Calcutta on account of the plague and other in- 
fectious diseases then raging, and when sight-seeing I 
invariably used a carriage. Among the vehicles seen in 
the streets one may notice here and there closed pal- 
anquins, which are especially used by Mohammedan 
women. A bamboo cart with heavy wheels, and a box- 
shaped public conveyance (garri) with turbaned driver 
and runner (sais) is often encountered. On the quays 
are seen heavy truck carts, with thick wooden disk wheels, 
drawn by steers, and the river itself is crowded with 
steamers, sailing vessels and native boats of all kinds. 

During the first days of our stay in Calcutta I did not 
notice much in the crowded streets of the European and 
native quarters that pointed to the great mortality to 
which the newspapers daily alluded under conspicuous 
headlines. One morning, however, I made up my mind 
to pay a visit to the Nimtollah Burning-ghats on the 
shores of the Hooghli River, where the Hindoos dispose of 
their dead by cremation, in order to convince myself of 
the conditions. We had started in a carriage, but since 



— 218 — 



the heat was not too oppressive, I dismounted near the 
Howrah bridge, a wooden structure which spans the river, 
with the intention of walking from there to the Burning- 
ghats. The Howrah bridge offers a view, the like of 
which, as regards picturesqueness, is not even surpassed 
by the Galata bridge in Constantinople. The constant 
stream of vehicles and humanity of all shades and types 
crossing and recrossing here simply beggars description. 
Down stream, not far from the bridge, are situated the 
various Bathing-ghats, where all day long men and 
women seemingly cleanse themselves in the yellow water. 
The bathers go into the water in their clothes, which they, 
on emerging from the bath, allow to dry again on their 
bodies. The heat does this very soon, almost while they 
are dressing their hair, and while the Hindoo priests, who 
have temporary booths there, paint the washed-off caste 
signs again on their foreheads and noses. These priests 
are certainly doing a good business, and that they appreci- 
ate the value of time, I could learn from the circumstance 
that one much-occupied priest used a rubber stamp with 
various color pads, to perform his work more expedi- 
tiously. 

In the immediate vicinity of the Bathing-ghats native 
barbers ply their trade in the open air and under the burn- 
ing sun without even the protection of the large sunshades 
so common in India. Both tonsorial artist and customer 
squat on their haunches during the work, and offer a most 
ludicrous sight to the foreign visitor. 

Only a short distance further down, the smoke from the 
Nimtollah ghats rises in the air. This crematory, the 
principal one in Calcutta, consists of a large roofless 
building in the shape of a parallelogram enclosed by four 
walls. Admission is free to anyone who cares to walk in, 
but, if I am not mistaken, there are few strangers who 



— 219 — 



would have availed themselves of the opportunity under 
the conditions existing when I paid my visit there. As 
the newspaper reports of the following morning had it, 
there were ninety bodies disposed of in this special ghat 
the day I visited there, a large majority of whom had died 
of the plague and other contagious diseases. A stately- 




Burning of Plague Bodies; Second Stage. 

looking native policeman was stationed at the entrance, 
who, after receiving a small baksheesh, conducted me in- 
side, where I found about a dozen assistants, clad only 
in breech clouts, busy in preparing the bodies and funeral 
pyres. About fifteen of the latter were burning in various 



— 220 — 



stages of consumption as I entered, armed with my 
camera and strongly puffing a cigar as a sort of sanitary 
precaution. Caloo, in spite of his zeal and officiousness, 
had declined to accompany me, and awaited my return on 
the outside. 

Through the thick smoke which filled the space I could 
at first scarcely distinguish the various objects, and had 
not an occasional puff of wind cleared the atmosphere 
somewhat, it would have been impossible for me to secure 
the photographic views which I was so desirous of obtain- 
ing. During these short intervals, however, I was enabled 
to observe what was going on. As the bodies were 
brought in, wrapped in white sheets, they were placed in 
rows upon the ground, awaiting their turn for cremation. 
The attendants were constantly employed in removing the 
ashes of the burned-down pyres and building new pyres 
out of wooden fagots, of which there was a large supply 
heaped up in one corner. In building one of these pyres 
they placed six or eight fagots close together upon the 
ground and piled as many more crosswise in several 
layers on top, before the body was placed upon it. On 
top of the latter more wood is piled in conical shape until 
the whole heap reaches a height of about five feet, allow- 
ing, however, the extremities of the body to protrude. 
As soon as a pyre is completed, some burning fagots from 
another pyre nearly consumed are used to set it aflame. 
The wood being very dry, it does not take long to develop 
a strong blaze, and within a few seconds the sheets are 
burned off" the corpse, exposing the protruding limbs be- 
tween the fagots. 

About half an hour is necessary to change a body into 
an unshapely black stump, and only a little more time to 
burn it entirely to ashes, out of which only a few larger 
fragments of white bones protrude. The penetrating odor 



— 221 — 



of the burning flesh is exceedingly nauseating, and is an- 
other obstacle which makes it extremely disagreeable to 
secure photographic views of the proceedings within the 
ghat. While operating with my camera I was much 
scared by several pistol-like detonations around me, the 
cause of which remained unexplained to me until I left 



the ghat. Upon an inquiry addressed through Caloo to 
the native policeman, I was told that these explosions 
were caused by the bursting of skulls as the gases devel- 
oped within the cranium of the bodies. I was glad to 
leave the gruesome place, but am pleased to state that my 
photographs were a success. 





A Snake Charmer and Juggler. 



— 222 — 



Next to the burning-ghats a visit to Kalighat is most 
interesting. This is an old temple about three miles from 
the center of the city where blood sacrifices are offered to 
the goddess Kali. The small temple is squeezed in be- 
tween narrow little streets and courts and has an unim- 
posing appearance, but the fakirs and other indescribable 
individuals which lounge about the courts and temple 
halls give the whole a peculiar attraction which cannot 
fail to leave its impression on the visitor. 

On the afternoon before our departure from Calcutta, 
we had occasion to witness a peculiar fight between a 
mongoose, a small short-legged animal with bushy tail, 
and a cobra. Among the many destructive animals of 
India the snakes are the most dangerous, and many 
thousands of natives annually fall victims to their deadlv 
bites. Among these reptiles the cobra is the most feared, 
since its bite is sure to prove fatal unless immediate 
steps are taken to nullify the effects of the venom, and 
not even then is safety assured. Fortunately, the cobra 
finds in the mongoose an arch-enemy which never hesi- 
tates to attack it, and it is a peculiar fact that this alert 
little animal nearly always emerges victor from a fight 
with such a big venomous serpent, although it is no more 
proof against the poison of its enemy than man. A frac- 
tional part of a gramme suffices to kill it. 

The fight we witnessed was proposed by one of the 
fakirs who in Calcutta, as in Colombo, perform their 
tricks for the benefit of strangers in front of the hotels. 
Having exhausted his art, he asked the Sahibs whether 
they would like to see a cobra and mongoose fight, and 
receiving an affirmative answer, he raised the lid of a 
basket, out of which crawled immediately a great cobra. 
At the same time he opened a sack in which something 
was moving, and out of this emerged quickly a mon- 



— 223 - 



goose. The serpent, as soon as it noticed the latter, tried 
to escape. But the mongoose gave it no time. Suddenly, 
like a flash he leaped into the air and when he alighted 
in a wriggling mass with the snake, which had quickly 
raised its head in defence, we could see that he had 
grasped the upper jaw of the cobra between his teeth and 
held on to it like grim death. The desperate wriggling of 
the snake, which tried to free itself from the grip of its 
opponent, was in vain. The mongoose held tight like a 
vise, although one could hardly follow the rapid move- 
ments of the two enemies. Round and round they whirled, 
until they finally sank to the ground exhausted and a truce 
was declared, which lasted, however, only a short time. 
The mongoose withdrew a short distance and the snake 
did not move for a minute or so. Then it raised its ugly 
head and tried again to escape, but the mongoose was 
quick, leaping once more into the air, caught the cobra as 
before by the upper jaw. The second round then began, 
but the fight was shorter than before. It was impossible 
to follow the details, as the animals formed a hissing and 
snarling mass of fur and scales which turned like a whirl- 
wind, now in the air and now on the ground. Soon the 
body of the snake stretched, its rings relaxed, and the 
mongoose shook the serpent as a terrier shakes a rat until 
there was literally no life left in it. Then he dropped it, 
•and his master returned him to the sack. 

We left Calcutta after a sojourn of one week, during 
which I had seen many new things, but the capital of 
India did not make such a lasting impression on me as 
the cities in the central part of the country, which we 
visited later, and which are of greater interest in every 
respect. 



XV. 



Plague Inspection. — Benares. — Hindoo New Year. 
The Shore of the Ganges. — Adventure in the 
Monkey Temple. — Floating Corpses in the Gan- 
ges. — The Bathing Pilgrims. — All Kinds of Fa- 
kirs. — A Solomonic Judgment. — Lucknow. — Peo- 
ple with Buttered Heads. 

The country traversed by the East Indian Railroad 
Company between Calcutta and Benares is flat and unin- 
teresting. The distance is about 500 miles and is covered 
in a little more than fifteen hours. There is nothing to be 
seen but scanty groups of trees, rice, indigo and opium 
fields. The province of Bengal is thickly populated, but 
the scattered villages seen in the distance are built of 
mud and appear to be dirty and neglected. At a small 
station called Chausa, the passengers were subjected to a 
plague inspection, which, however, was not very strict in 
the case of white travelers, while natives had to undergo 
a severe sanitary examination before being allowed to 
proceed on the journey. 

As the road nears Benares, the landscape improves 
considerably in aspect, its grayish tone changes often to 
a dull green and numerous mango trees and other or- 
chards are seen. The clumps of trees seem to be thicker 
and shadier, and frequently hedges of aloe and cactus 
line the road embankment. The first view of the city is 
gained from the train as it passes the great railway bridge 
over the Ganges. This structure is a fine example of the 
modern art of engineering, but it forms a strong contrast 
with the ancient town, the main approach to which it 



— 225 — 



affords, reminding one involuntarily of the sacrilegious 
electric tramway to the Pyramids. 

Benares is an old city. For centuries it has been con- 
sidered the religious capital of India and has enjoyed the 
reputation of being a sacred seat of Hindoo learning. It 
is called the Athens and sometimes the Oxford or Canter- 
bury of India. The great majority of the population are 
Hindoos and the number of the steady inhabitants is con- 
siderably augmented on special holy days by large in- 
fluxes of pilgrims. From all the provinces of India the 
believers in Buddha stream hither tp pray on the banks of 
the holy river, to bathe in it and to drink from its greenish 
waters, in spite of the danger of infection, lurking in 
crowds that come from all parts of a country never free 
from epidemics. For these pilgrims death has no terrors. 
To die in Benares and to have their bodies float down the 
holy river, or to have their ashes scattered over its waves, 
is salvation and a passport to heaven. 

One hardly expects to find good accommodations in 
Benares. However, the best hotel there may satisfy mod- 
erate expectations. Aside from the legions of hungry 
fleas and the lack of cool drinking water, there was noth- 
ing to complain of, and only the name of the hostelry was 
a disappointment to me. Hotel de Paris ! What an 
irony ! The only thing that might possibly remind one of 
the fine hotels of the French capital are the little blood- 
suckers, which in their own manner do in a small way 
what the French shop-keepers and hotel proprietors do 
on a larger scale. 

We could not have selected a better time for a visit to 
Benares. It was a great fete day, the Hindoo New 
Year's day. In consequence of this the streets of the 
inner city were almost entirely forsaken, as the gayly at- 
tired population had surged to the ghats on the river, 



— 226 — 



where a sort of fair was being- held. When I say "gayly 
attired," I beg my readers to imagine in this case white, 
flowing garments sprinkled with red or blue paint, and 
foreheads and cheeks smeared with crimson, which make 
the wearers look like butchers coming from the slaughter 
house. The sound of strange instruments emanating 
from the crowd, mixed with the laughter and clamor 
from a thousand throats, and the bright colors (generally 
red, yellow and green) under the glowing rays of the 
Indian sun gave the whole scene a highly picturesque 
appearance. 

Through this motley crowd were pushing dirty fakirs 
and jugglers, hawkers of all sorts of articles, and other 
types, about the identity of which I was frequently un- 
certain. Among others a Hindoo Samson gave a strong 
man performance which was really remarkable, consider- 
ing that Dhabil Chowdry (such was the name of the man) 
was a pious Hindoo who lived almost exclusively on rice. 
Towards evening a row started in the crowd which neces- 
sitated the interference of the police, and I was glad to 
escape from the surging mass and from the red and blue 
dust clouds created by the playful throwing of finely 
powdered colored chalk which made respiration difficult. 

The best view of Benares can be had by taking a boat 
and being rowed down stream from Tulsi to Ram Ghat. 
The endless variety of temples and palaces on the shore is 
simply astonishing. One may see here the most wonder- 
ful buildings in all possible shapes and stages of com- 
pletion and destruction, many of which are sadly out of 
plumb and threaten either to drop into the river or to fall 
backwards or sideways on their neighbors. The latter 
condition is the consequence of the regular annual floods 
of the Ganges, which wash away the shore and thereby 



- 227 - 



frequently cause an uneven settling- of the foundation 
walls. 

Numerous and wonderful are the old lores and fairy 
tales connected with the various temples and other build- 
ings, and our Hindoo guide thought the most conscien- 
tious relation of these not only his duty but a pleasure. 




The Mosque of Aurangzeb, Benares 

Thus, for example, there is at Rao Sahib Ghat a colossal 
figure of Bhima which, according to the Brahmins, is 
annually washed away and faithfully brought back again 
by the Ganges. The Gauri Well at Khedar Ghat is saM 
to cure without fail all diseases of the human body. In 
the neighborhood of this well is the stone of Mansarwar 



- 228 - 



which is supposed to grow daily about the size of a millet 
seed. At the Bhaira Ghat I had occasion to buy a fan of 
peacock feathers (very cheap, by the way), with a guar- 
antee that it would keep away from me all evil spirits. 
With this fan I have no better luck than with the talisman 
I bought in Aden, and after a while I shall begin to doubt 
the efficacy of both pagan and Buddhist amulets. 

Between the great mosque of Aurang-Zeb, the two 
octagonal minarets of which rise to a height of 232 feet 
above the surface of the Ganges, and the Bisheshwar 
Temple, is situated the celebrated Gyan Kup or Fountain 
of Knowledge, in which Shiva himself is said to have his 
abode. Next comes the shrine of Annapurna, the god- 
dess of plenty, the small Temple of Shunkareshwar, in 
which women pray for handsome sons (a thing which 
seems unreasonable considering the looks of the moth- 
ers), and the Holiest of Holies, Mani Varnika and Char- 
anpadak, where on an elevated round stone the footprints 
of Vishnu can be seen. These, by the way, are about the 
size of those of a small child. The Temple of Nepali is 
highly interesting, but I shall have to forego all detailed 
description on account of its most erratic sculptures. They 
form a frieze around the outer wall and rows of small sil- 
ver bells seem to call special attention to them. Speaking 
of the temples, I will also mention here the Monkey Tem- 
ple, remarkable only through the large crowd of monkeys 
which inhabit its courts and pillared halls, as well as the 
neighboring trees. This and the Golden Temple are situ- 
ated in the city at a considerable distance from the river. 
The Golden Temple derives its name from its gilded 
cupolas, and contains the court of the holy cows with the 
crimson stained stone carving of an archaic steer. I was 
allowed to watch the devotions in the temple through a 
small hole in the wall, but it was impossible to discern 



— 229 — 



from that point of vantage more than the heads of a 
small number of' worshipers. 

In the Monkey Temple we had a serio-comical adven- 
ture which came near getting us into a serious contro- 
versy with the temple attendants. I had started out one 
afternoon in the company of two gentlemen and Caloo 




In the Court of the Monkey Temple. 

with the purpose of photographing some of the monkeys, 
and I had just made a snap-shot of a full-grown male, 
when the attention of the animal was attracted to my 
cigar which I had deposited during the work at the base 
of a column. Caloo noticed the monkey just as he 
stretched out his paw to take it, and saved it in time by 



— 230 — 



snatching it away with a quick movement. The monkey, 
however, seemed to have a special hankering after the 
weed, for he followed us persistently on our tour around 
the court which we were inspecting, holding his paw out 
towards me whenever we stopped. The cigar had been 
freshly lit, and I thought it too good to give up to a 
monkey, the more so because I doubted his ability of mak- 
ing correct use of it. At last one of the gentlemen who 
had observed this incident induced me to hand the cigar 
to the simian, who hesitatingly stretched his paw out, and 
after receiving it jumped away quickly. We followed him 
with our eyes and saw him squat down on the landing of 
a stairway, where he began to unroll the cigar. He evi- 
dently did not want to smoke, but, with Oriental business 
instinct, merely desired to convince himself of the quality 
of the tobacco. Suddenly he jumped up with a cry of 
pain and fled to an elevated point, from where, under 
continued shrieking, he made threatening faces at me. 
He had burned his fingers. His shrieks had attracted two 
temple attendants from another part of the court, who, 
supposing the monkey had been abused in some way, 
asked for an explanation. Their voices and features 
showed that they were quite angry. None of us, outside 
of Caloo, understood what they said, but the latter soon 
succeeded in pacifying them after I had handed over a 
rupee as a healing plaster for the monkey and for their 
own wounded feelings. 

Returning to the hotel one evening, I heard through the 
open window a croaking voice which I recognized imme- 
diately as belonging to Mr. K. . . ., my disagreeable fel- 
low-traveler on the "Valetta," and entering the dining 

room I found that the family H and several other 

newcomers had arrived. The company decided to take a 
large boat early next morning for the purpose of rowing 



— 231 — 



down the river front and seeing the pilgrims at their 
prayers and ablutions in the Ganges, and I accepted an 
invitation to join them. Shortly after sunrise we left the 
hotel, accompanied by a Mohammedan and a Buddhist 
guide. A large double-decked boat awaited us. As we 
moved away from the shore the boat listed slightly to the 
side where the majority of the party had seated itself, 




The Burning Ghat of Benares. 



?.nd this gave Mr. K. . . . occasion to give vent to his 
choleric temper and to exhibit his cowardice. 

"For heaven's sake/' he called out, turning pale as a 
ghost, "do you want to drown us? Put me ashore! I 
want to get out of here !" 

"Oh, keep quiet, Mr. K- . . .," replied a young Belgian, 



— 232 — 



half earnestly and half jokingly. "You know that he who 
is destined to hang will not drown." 

Mr. K. . . . returned only a venomous glance and kept 
still. 

Attractive as the river shore had been on the afternoon 
of our arrival in Benares, it was more interesting by far 
on our morning visit. It was an entirely different crowd 
which was now bathing in the Ganges, praying on the 
shore, washing and drying itself under great mushroom- 
shaped sunshades, climbing up and down the temple 
stairs, and last, but not least, drinking the water of the 
river in which we saw floating two corpses partly con- 
sumed by fire and partly eaten by fishes, while the crows 
were serenely picking their breakfast from the rotting 
bodies. 

Unlike the Nimtollah Ghat in Calcutta, the Burning 
Ghat in Benares occupies a slanting open space directly on 
the river shore. The process of cremation is about the 
same. The number of corpses, however, is smaller and 
the odor in consequence of the free draft not so penetrat- 
ing. I had occasion to make an observation here which I 
had failed to make in Calcutta. I found that not all bodies 
were entirely consumed by fire, and our intelligent Hin- 
doo guide informed me that the partial or total cremation 
depends upon the relatives of the deceased, and especially 
upon their financial condition. Whenever the means of 
the relicts do not allow the purchase of a sufficient quan- 
tity of wood, the body can be only partly cremated, and 
the very poor have to be satisfied with singeing the hair 
or beard of their dead. These corpses are then entrusted 
to the Ganges, the holy water of which is supposed to 
cleanse their souls and to carry them straight to heaven. 

The shores from Tulsi to Ram Ghat were crowded 
with pilgrims, and these, with the background of dilap- 



— 233 — 



idated temples and palaces, would have formed a magnifi- 
cent subject for a Verestschagin or a Weeks. Among the 
bathing multitudes there were types which could have 
earned more money in One month as models in European 
art academies than they could make in five years in their 
own country. There were old men and women with 




The Bathing Ghat of Benares. 

emaciated bodies moving painfully to the water's edge; 
sick, who were washing their wounds and crippled limbs 
in the miraculous water, and young athletes who regarded 
the Ganges bath perhaps more as a sport than a religious 
act. As varied as the multitude were the feelings depicted 
in the faces. Pleasure, hope, reverence and gratitude 



— 234 — 



mirrored themselves in their features. Many were strew- 
ing flowers upon the surface of the water, and all were 
folding their hands in prayer before submerging their 
bodies. Before the pilgrims leave the holy city a sign is 
painted by the priests upon their foreheads, which is for 
them the same as the green turban for the Mecca pilgrim, 
a badge or certificate regarded with reverence by all who 
have not made the pilgrimage to Benares. 

Other characteristic features of the city are the relig- 
ious fakirs, fantastically gotten-up fanatics, the idiosyn- 
crasies of whom may be best observed in the temple courts 
and near the holy sites, and who are for India what the 
dervishes are for Egypt, Turkey and other Islamitic coun- 
tries. Among these fakirs are found the highest degrees 
of filth, fraud, self-denial and self-torture. Some of them 
live all their lives in a state of perfect nudity, their bodies 
being smeared with wood ashes and their hair matted in 
a felt-like mass. Others roll in somersaults hundreds of 
miles. The Yokis look at the point of their nose in eighty- 
four different positions. Some stand for hours on their 
heads and pray in this uncomfortable position. 

The Hindoo fakirs are generally disciples of Shiva. 
All they possess is a "lingam," which they worship contin- 
ually, and a skin on which they rest. There is no torture 
which is not practiced on their own bodies by one or the 
other of their fraternities. Some tear their flesh by con- 
tinual flagellation or have themselves welded with iron 
chains to a tree trunk, remaining thus until death relieves 
them. Others vow to remain all their lives in certain dif- 
ficult positions. Thus, fakirs have held their fists closed 
until the nails have grown through the hands. Others 
cross their arms over the head until it is impossible to 
bend them any more. Such fanatics cannot eat or drink, 
and have to be fed by their pupils and followers. The 



— 235 — 



"Kave-Patrepandarons" have taken the vow of eternal 
silence and walk begging from house to house, indicating 
their wants by gestures. 

Many fakirs bury themselves in the ground, breathing 
through a small opening, and remain underground so 
long that it is a wonder they do not die. Others have them- 
selves buried up to the neck. or. lying flat on the ground, 
have only their heads covered with earth. There are some 
who remain standing all their lives. When sleeping, 
these lean against a wall or tree, and so as not to enjoy 
any comfort at all. they have an iron grate welded 
around their necks. Some fakirs sleep only in a sitting 
posture, resting their arms on sleeping crutches during 
their slumber. There are those who stand for man}- hours 
on one leg, the eyes turned towards the sun. Others 
stretch one of their legs up in the air and stand upon the 
great toe of the other, while keeping their arms above 
their heads ; surrounded by four pots, in which fires are 
burning, they look steadily into the burning sun. To 
enforce eternal silence, some fakirs bore holes through 
their cheeks and tongue with an iron rod and have an- 
other iron, running under the chin, welded to this. An- 
other variety walk or stand all their lives on round 
earthen pots or on sandals with iron spikes under the 
soles of their feet. 

I cannot vouch for the correctness of this information 
which was given us by our Hindoo guide. However, I 
myself encountered, during my journey in India, a few of 
the types described above, and I was told by some well- 
instructed people who had lived many years in India, that 
the exhibitions of religious craze as related by our guide 
are no product of the imagination, but do really exist. 
Our party saw in Benares a fakir lying almost naked on 
a board thickly covered with long spikes, while he was 



— 236 — 

stoically letting- the beads of a rosary pass between his 
finders. Of the type which hold their arms over their 
heads and let their nails grow through their hands we 
saw several examples, and we observed one fellow who 
was hanging down by his legs for hours at a time from a 
rack. Around another fakir I counted a narrow circle of 
fourteen charcoal fires., in the midst of which the fanatic 
was sitting and praying. 

Wandering one clay with Caloo through the various 
temple courts, I stopped in front of two men seated on 
the ground, who were engaged in a lively dispute over a 
few annas lying between them on a cloth, and about 
which they did not seem to be able to agree. Caloo ex- 
plained to me that they were a priest and a pilgrim, the 
first of which evidently demanded a larger money offer- 
ing than the other was willing to give. 

"Seest thou, Sahib," said the pilgrim to me, "it is really 
enough, but he wants two annas more;" whereupon the 
priest cited various reasons why he should receive more 
than the other wanted to give. 

"I leave it to thee, Sahib," again said the pilgrim to 
me, "whether I should give two annas more or not." 

"If you are willing to submit to my judgment," I re- 
plied, "then I say that you ought to split the difference 
and thus settle the matter amicably." 

With this Solomonic judgment both were satisfied. 

"The Sahib is a wise man," said the priest, while the 
other, sadly shaking his head, drew another anna from 
the depths of his flowing garment. 

The heat during our sojourn in Benares was almost 
unbearable, in consequence of which I shortened the three 
days that I originally thought of spending in this city, by 
half a day, and we continued our trip to Lucknow via the 
Oudh & Rohilkhund Railway. 



— 237 - 



Lucknow, on the banks of the River Goomte, is one of 
the largest cities of India, and was in 1857 one of the 
great centers of the bloody Sepoy mutiny. The sad ruins 
of the English Government Palace, in the midst of a 




Group of Dervishes. 

beautiful park, still bear witness to that dreadful time 
when a handful of brave Englishmen with children and 
wives fell victims to the fanaticism of the mutineering 



- 238 - 



native troops. Numerous monuments and tombs desig- 
nate the sites on which these heroic defenders fell or 
where they were laid to rest. The English soldiers' ceme- 
tery also contains many handsomely decorated graves, 
but natives are not permitted to visit it. 

The old royal palaces of Lucknow are not especially 
noteworthy, and even the most important among them, 
the Kaiser Bhag, built in 1848 at a cost of ten million 
rupees, is not of architectural importance. The Great 
Emambarah Mosque with its gigantic court, its great 
stairway and its handsome wings, is an imposing build- 
ing. It is a place for religious meetings and feasts, and 
contains a hall said to be the largest in the country. The 
Small Emambarah Mosque, also a handsome structure in 
Moorish design, contains the tombs of Mohammed Ali 
Shah and his mother. The small garden in the court of 
this mosque is charmingly laid out. The badly painted 
portraits of old Oudh rulers in Barderi Hall are hardly 
worth visiting. The Chattar Munzil or Umbrella House 
is a most fantastic building, deriving its name from the 
peculiarly-shaped ornament by which it is surmounted. 

The pleasure resort of Europeans living in Lucknow is 
Wingfield Park, on the spacious lawns of which tennis, 
cricket and other English games are played every evening. 
A beautiful building situated at some distance from the 
center of the city, is the Martiniere, a boys' college 
founded by General Martin, a Frenchman who made his 
fortune in India. It contains the tomb of its founder, 
whose memory is also preserved by a grand fluted column 
rising from the middle of a small lake in front of the insti- 
tute. A drive through the native bazaars is quite inter- 
esting, without, however, offering any special features, 
unless it be the well-known small plastic clay figures of 



— 239 — 



Indian types which are very skilfully modeled here by 
native artists. 

The native population of Lucknow is in general less 
interesting than that of Calcutta and Benares, and the 
same may be said about the life in the streets of the native 
quarters. One observation I made here, however, viz., 
that many natives grease their heads with butter, which, 
as Caloo told me, is used as a favorite preventive against 
sunstroke in other parts of India, also. 

A twenty-four hours' stay in Lucknow is sufficient for 
the visitor, all the more as during a longer stay he may 
be in danger of being devoured by fleas and mosquitoes. 
What a plague these little pests are in India ! 

We were to visit Agra next, and I was impatient to see 
the city of the Grand Moguls. 



XVI. 



Approach to Agra. — Kenari Bazaar. — Ekkas. — The 
Taj Mahl — Cenotaphs of Shah Jehan and Wife. 
— The Pearl Mosque. — The Jasmine Pavilion. — 
The Itimad ud Dowla. — Fattehpoor-Sikkri. — Ak- 
bar's Tomb in Secundra.-^The Original Recep- 
tacle OF THE KOHINOOR DIAMOND. 

In 1884, when I for the first time saw a collection of 
Oriental paintings by Vassily Verestschagin, the Russian 
artist-author-soldier, which contained a large number of 
highly interesting views and types of North and Central 
India, an ardent desire took hold of me to see and study 
this wonderland, and more especially Agra and Delhi, the 
two gems of Grandmogulian architecture. At that time, 
I hardly imagined that this desire would be gratified some 
day, and now I am really here and am actually strolling 
through the picturesque streets of the erstwhile metrop- 
olis of Shah Jehan, the mighty Grand Mogul. My dream 
has been realized, and I am not disappointed. The brush 
of the Russian painter told no lie. What a strange, won- 
derful city ! Full of interesting street life and beautiful 
Oriental palaces ! 

This impression, however, is not created until after the 
city has been entered, for the approach to it can hardly be 
called attractive. Low sand hills surround Agra from all 
sides, and as the train nears the city and slowly crosses 
the Jumna bridge, the white giant cupola of the Taj 
Mahal is the only object on which the eye of the traveler 
rests with interest. Of the Jumna River itself, on which 
Agra is situated, very little could be said at the time of 



— 241 — 



our presence there, for hardly a wavelet wetted its bed. 
It was as dry as the desert, and a large camel caravan had 
pitched its dirty and ragged tents upon its glittering yel- 
low sand. It almost seemed as if the animals which 
quenched their thirst from the narrow rivulet would dry 
it up entirely. Over the highways, between low sand hills, 
heavy clouds of dust were floating, out of which emerged 




An Ekka. 



horsemen and vehicles of various shapes, drawn by buf- 
faloes, donkeys and dromedaries, wending their way 
toward or away from the city. In the clear blue sky 
which rose above this picture, circled large numbers of 
great vultures, eagles, and other birds of prey. 

We stopped at Laurie's Great Northern Hotel, a typical 



— 242 — 



British-Indian hostelry, and after taking a refreshing 
bath, i. e., after having several large pails of water thrown 
over me by Caloo, we started out on a stroll through the 
city, in spite of the oppressive heat. 

In the streets, and especially in Kenari Bazaar, the 
main thoroughfare, the crowd was pushing and bustling 
as everywhere in the native quarters, chattering and bar- 
gaining as if their lives depended upon it. The mass of 
humanity was so dense that the numerous riders, mounted 
on horses, donkeys and dromedaries and the small ekkas, 
dainty two-wheeled vehicles drawn by gayly caparisoned 
steeds, could hardly wend their way through the bustling 
crowd. 

These ekkas which I saw here for the first time, by the 
way, are not the most comfortable means of transporta- 
tion, as I learned from my own experience. Male passen- 
gers must sit on them sideways in such a manner as to 
have their legs dangle outside and directly over the 
wheels, while women sit on the bottom of the vehicle, 
Turkish fashion, which position is certainly not the most 
comfortable for European ladies. If the passenger be a 
Mohammedan woman, the curtains on the high upright 
frame are carefully drawn, thus giving the whole vehicle 
the aspect of a gigantic covered bird cage. However, the 
ekkas are by far more picturesque than the buffaloes carry- 
ing loads of dried manure in strong nets, which costly 
animal product is used here as fuel and adds in no small 
way to the Oriental odors which every gust of wind 
blows into the nostrils of the stranger. 

Caloo led me into various stores and work-shops, 
where many beautiful and interesting objects were to be 
seen, and of course, to be bought. His interest in the 
purchases was so lively, that it gave birth to a suspicion 
that he was receiving a percentage, which, at a suitable 



time, he probably cashed. Among other things, I bought 
here one of the pretty white soapstone models of the Taj 
Mahal, which are manufactured by Agra artisans in vari- 
ous sizes and are purchased by nearly every tourist. My 
experience taught me since that they are not worth buy- 
ing, the material used being too brittle to admit of bring- 
ing them home in an undamaged condition. 




A Starving Beggar Boy. 

The Taj Mahal is for Agra what St. Peter's is for 
Rome, the Cathedral of St. Isaac for St. Petersburg, and 
the Aya Sophia for Constantinople, that is, the sight of 
sights, with this difference only, that none of the above 
mentioned buildings may be even distantly compared with 
the Taj Mahal in its perfect harmony and its wonderful 



— 244 — 



ensemble. It has often been said that this mausoleum, 
which was erected by Shah Jehan in commemoration of his 
favorite wife, Mumtaz, was the work of a great architect 
and a great jeweler, and it may really be doubted whether 
the combined efforts of Michael Angelo and Benvenuto 
Cellini could have invented and produced anything more 
beautiful. 

I was favored by good luck and saw the Taj Mahal 
first by moonlight. Never shall I forget the impression 
which this symmetrical white marble pile, surrounded by 
magnificent gardens, made upon me in the silver light of 
the full moon, and if this view cannot be compared in 
grandeur and mystic effect with that of the colossal tem- 
ple ruins of Karnak, or with the overwhelming impression 
made by the Acropolis, both of which I have seen under 
like circumstances, it is still worth a special trip to Agra 
to enjoy it. It is not known who planned and executed 
this magnificent building, and this fact is one of the 
deplorable examples of the caprice of fate, which keeps 
from the world the name of one of the greatest architects 
while it preserves in the annals of history the name of a 
Herostratus. To fully appreciate the wonderful details 
of this mausoleum, on which 20,000 men were working 
for seventeen years, with a total expenditure of three 
million pounds sterling, it is necessary to view it in day- 
light. I spent a whole forenoon in its inspection, and 
returned again and again for the purpose of admiring its 
beautiful symmetry and perfect proportions. 

So much has been written about the Taj Mahal and its 
beauties, and every traveler in describing it has spoken in 
such hyperbolic language, that one involuntarily expects 
to be disappointed. But, far from it. On the contrary, I 
found that the human language is in reality too poor to 
give a correct picture of this gem of architecture, and 



— 215 - 



even the brush of the artist would have to be wielded by 
a master hand to picture this monument in any way ap- 
proaching the truth. 

The small park leading to the mausoleum is tastefully 
laid out. There are smooth sheets of water, shady trees, 
flower beds, green lawns and shrubbery. It is entered by 




Buffalo Carrying Dried Duug e 



a monumental gate and flanked on the sides by mosque- 
like structures of brown sandstone. The rectangular 
building stands upon a large elevated platform which, like 
the rest of the mausoleum, consists of the purest white 
marble. It is surmounted by one magnificent large cupola 
and four smaller ones, and flanked on the corners of the 



— 246 — 



platform by four high, slender minarets. Two flights of 
stairs lead to the immense dias on which the Taj rests, 
and directly to the main entrance, which differs in nothing 
from the portals situated on the three other sides of the 
building. These portals form great arched recesses, 
adorned by magnificent relief work and inlaid arabesques 
of multi-colored stones, while the doors themselves are 
carved of marble in rich screen work, which, in spite of its 
dimensions, looks like fine Venetian lace at a little dis- 
tance. The vestibule shows the same rich and careful 
work as the great portal recesses, and a marble stairway 
leads from here down to the crypts of Shah Jehan and his 
wife. 

The main room is an octagonal hall, directly under the 
great cupola, surrounded by large corridors with four 
niches and four doors each in two tiers. Exactly in the 
center of this hall, which has a fine echo, the two ceno- 
taphs are placed, surrounded by a most beautiful screen 
of white marble and precious stones, six feet high, the 
sculptural execution of which is a model of daintiness 
hardly conceivable in cold stone. The costly gems and 
semi-precious stones with which this hall and other parts 
of the Taj were once richly adorned, have partly disap- 
peared, having fallen a prey to the various conquerors 
who, at different times, have taken Agra since the death 
of Jehan. The importance of the mausoleum is evinced 
by the fact that, although it is in a good state of preserva- 
tion, a number of workmen are constantly engaged in 
repairing small defects and restoring it in general to its 
former magnificence. 

It is, however, a mistake to visit the Taj Mahal before 
viewing the other gems of architecture which are situ- 
ated inside and outside the fort, since the latter are bound 



— 247 — 



to lose by comparison, while otherwise an increase of con- 
tinual enjoyment may be had. 

The Fort was built by Akbar and occupies an area of 
nearly a square mile. As a fortification it is of no im- 
portance whatever, but within its walls are palaces and 
mosques which would be regarded as perfect examples of 



t 



i 




Th Taj Maehal in Agra. 

Caracenic building art, if the Taj were not there as an 
object of comparison. Among these buildings the Pearl 
Mosque is doubtless the most beautiful specimen. It is of 
snow-white marble, and the dainty arcades surrounding 
the marble-paved court, with the magnificently carved 
ablution tank in the center, look as if they were the work 



— 248 — 



of a confectioner instead of an architect. The public 
audience hall of Shah Jehan is in white and gold, open on 
three sides and supported by fine columns ; the private 
audience hall in inlaid marble work with open court, con- 
tains the black marble throne of the ruler and a white 
marble dais for the High Court of Justice; the Shish 
Mahal (Woman's Bath) is decorated with glass and mir- 
rors, and the Khas Mahal (Ladies' Drawing Room) is a 
noble structure of white marble with traces of rich decora- 
tive painting in gold and colors: In the so-called Jasmine 
Pavilion, which offers a view over a part of the city, 
Shah Jehan was kept a prisoner for nearly a decade by his 
son and successor, Aurang-Zeh. Whether the rich and 
tasty decorations of this small pavilion were a consolation 
to him for the ingratitude of his son, is doubtful, but, in 
any case, he had a chance to reflect here on the justice of 
Nemesis, who thus avenged his own action towards his 
father and predecessor, Jahangir. 

The Itimad ud Dowla, the mausoleum of Shah Jehan's 
grand vizier and wife, is situated on the other shore of 
the Jumna River, and with its harmonious proportions, 
beautiful gardens and rich decorative adornments, is a 
worthy mate of the Taj Mahal, the gem of Agra. From 
the roof of this building a beautiful view may be had over 
the city, river and Taj. 

The English society of Agra consists, as in all interior 
British-Indian garrison towns, of the officers and civil 
government officials, with their wives and families. There 
is, of course, a club, and, in spite of the hot climate, out- 
door sport is enjoyed abundantly. In the late afternoon 
one can always see ladies and gentlemen in the public 
gardens, playing tennis and other similar games, which, 
however, differ from American sports of like character in 
so far as here white and red uniformed Indian servants 



— 219 — 

chase after the stray balls, and, whenever possible, save 
their masters and mistresses all physical exertion. 

Before leaving Agra we made a short excursion to 
Sikkandra, or Secundra, as it is also called, which is only 
a few miles distant, and where the great mausoleum of 
Akbar may be found. This ruler, one of the most power- 




The Tomb of Akbar in Sikkandra 

ful of his time, erected the magnificent palaces of Fatteh- 
poor-Sikkri, the interesting ruins of which are situated 
twenty-two miles from Agra, with the intention to found 
there a second and greater capital, which was to be at the 
same time his monument. This city, however, had to be 



— 250 — 



deserted in the course of time on account of malarial con- 
ditions which could not be obviated, and for three cen- 
turies wind and weather have now been gnawing at its 
crumbling walls. But if the power of the elements caused 
Akbar's plan to fail, he still possesses a monument worthy 
of him in Sikkandra. 

The road to this place is formed by a fine avenue of 
trees, the branches of which are enlivened by gayly 
plumed birds, and especially by numerous small, green 
parrots. The surroundings of Akbar's tomb are similar 
to those of the Taj Mahal and the Itimad ud Dowla gard- 
dens, to which a large gateway leads, crowned by four 
half-demolished small minarets, a broad pathway of 
square stone-flags, flower beds, trees and shrubbery. The 
mausoleum itself is of brown sandstone and over the roof 
rises a terrace-shaped pile of four stories of the same 
material, with the exception of the topmost one, which is 
of white marble in fine relief work. Numerous small 
cupolas resting on slender columns give the building an 
exceedingly picturesque aspect. 

The main entrance leads through a high, arched portal 
with Arab designs in Mosaic, and through a beautifully 
carved marble door to a vestibule, the ancient decoration 
of which, in gold, blue and red, is almost totally destroyed. 
Only in one corner has the decoration been restored to its 
original beauty, this having been done in honor of the 
Prince of Wales on the occasion of his visit to the British- 
Indian empire. A corridor, slanting and in height con- 
tinually decreasing, leads to the main tomb. The sar- 
cophagus is of white, smooth marble, and stands in a 
small, high room, the walls of which are plainly plastered 
and do not bear any decorations whatever. Beside 
Akbar's body, the mausoleum contains those of other rel- 
atives and wives, of which latter Akbar is said to have 



— 251 — 



had three, a Mohammedan, a Buddhist and a Christian. 
I wonder how they got along with each other. 

From the uppermost terrace a charming view opens 
upon the gardens and the whole environs. There is also 
a fine carved tombstone, upon which the ninety-nine 
names of Allah are engraved, and a short decorated 
column in which, as the legend goes, the celebrated Kohi- 
noor diamond was formerly enclosed for safe-keeping. 
Would it be safe there to-day ? 



XVII. 



Change of Cars in Pajamas. — Arrival in Delhi. — 
The Sepoy Rebellion and its Insignificant Cause. 
— Mogul Buildings. — Fiery Headed Old Men. — 
Chandni Chauk. — A Suspicious Nautch Dance. — 
A Dangerous Incident.— At the Tomb of King 
Cherrybrandy. — The Jama Musjid — The Kutab 
Minar. — A Mysterious Monument. — Again Mr. K. 

To reach Delhi from Agra by rail it is, to use a certain 
military expression, necessary to retrace one's steps, i. e., 
to return to Toondla station on the Lucknow-Agra road, 
and to change cars there for the Delhi night train, which 
arrives at its destination at 5 130 in the morning. This 
change of cars, of which Caloo failed to notify me, caused 
a comical intermezzo. Immediately on entering the train 
I had thrown off my clothes, donned pajamas, and 
stretched myself comfortably on the bed, ready to sleep. I 
was just dozing off after having given the straw wheel in 
my window a last turn in its water trough in order to 
cool off the hot air in the compartment, when suddenly 
Caloo stood before me whispering in his usual low tone: 
"Change car, master — Toondla." I jumped up quickly. 
"Why the dickens didn't you inform me that we had to 
change cars?" I retorted angrily. But there was no time 
for scolding or arguing. Our train had stopped, and the 
other one was waiting on the next track. Caloo took hold 
of the greater part of the baggage, I picked up the rest, 
together with my clothes and shoes, and hastily shoving 
my pit-helmet onto my head, we both ran down the line 
of cars, when the conductor informed us that we had a 



— 253 -- 



good five minutes left for the Delhi train. Nevertheless, 
it was imperative for me, under the circumstances, to get 
under cover as soon as possible. In the new car which 
we quickly boarded, I gave vent to my pent-up feelings 
towards Caloo, without, however, soothing my temper, 
and without making a perceptible impression upon him. 
He quietly allowed my tirade to pass over his head, re- 
marking laconically when I had finished, "Master, cool off 
by window." 

At sunrise we made our entry into Delhi. We drove in 
a comfortable carriage across the city, the streets of which 
were still deserted, and out through the Cashmere Gate to 
Maiden's Hotel, which is situated outside the wall, at a 
short distance from the historic gate. 

In spite of the early hour we noticed near the hotel 
entrance several individuals who seemed to eye us with 
great interest, and regarding whom the indefinite sus- 
picion arose in my mind that they were on the lookout 
for me. I was not mistaken, for after breakfast, when I 
had hardly seated myself on the veranda to study my 
"Murray on India," and to make out the plan for the 
day, the suspicious fellows approached and began a lively 
attack on my purse by trying to blind me with some 
beautifully glittering jewels which they offered for sale; 
but I had learned my lesson in Colombo and repulsed the 
attack, for the moment victoriously. 

In the course of centuries Delhi has experienced many 
fateful changes. Its site, since its foundation 50 B. C, 
has changed repeatedly, and the city of to-day stands 
apart from the Delhi of Akbar and Shah Jehan ; while the 
numerous ruins lying within a radius of ten to fifteen 
miles and covering about forty-five square miles mark 
the sites where the various older towns of Delhi once 
stood. The new city played an important part during the 



— 254 — 



Sepoy mutiny of 1857; many bloody fights took place 
here during the noted siege, before the English troops 
succeeded in re-taking the city by storming Cashmere 
Gate. 

This gate is the identical spot where one of the most 
heroic deeds during the mutiny was performed by a few 
English non-commissioned officers and private soldiers. 
Readers of the history of the Sepoy rebellion will recall 
the instance when the English troops besieging the na- 
tive mutineers found it absolutely necessary to gain 
entrance to the city by the Cashmere Gate. Volunteers 
being called for, eleven men came forward who offered to 
blow up the gate with a powder charge in face of the 
great danger accompanying such an undertaking. The 
approach to the gate was commanded by the bullets of 
the enemy, and of the brave little troop only one man 
reached the goal, where, after setting off the charge, he 
was buried an instant later under the falling ruins of the 
arch. A marble slab on the gate immortalizes the names 
of these heroes worthy to be mentioned with Horatius, 
Codes, Leonidas and Arnold von Winkelried. 

It may be of interest to state here that this terrible 
rebellion of 1857, which entailed the massacre of thou- 
sands of English men, women and children, was brought 
about by the injudicious use of hog lard for greasing 
some cartridges which formed part of a consignment of 
ammunition distributed among the native troops. 

The garrison cemetery bears witness to the number of 
the fallen during that period, and at the same time to the 
democratic sentiments of the authorities ; for here are 
buried, without distinction of rank, and close to each 
other, private and captain, corporal and general, and they 
all have been honored by the soldiers' monument erected 
on a ridge outside the walls overlooking the city. 



— 255 — 



The monumental buildings of Delhi, dating from the 
times of the Grand Moguls, are similar to those of Agra 
in style as well as in decorative finish, and are situated 
mostly within the fort, the commander of which issues 
special permission to visit them. Of these buildings I 
will only mention the Public Audience Hall of red sand- 




The Cashmere Gate in Delhi. 

stone with beautiful columns and marble throne, and the 
Diwan i Khas (Private Audience Hall) of Shah Jehan, 
with white marble colonnades and decorations in gold and 
inlaid colored stones. Here the dais may still be seen 
upon which once stood the celebrated Peacock Throne of 
Jehan, which probably fell a prey to the later conquerors. 



— 256 — 



The harem rooms in this palace are of extraordinary 
beauty in designs of inlaid flowers and arabesques in a 
fairly good state of preservation. 

One gets somewhat apathetic by seeing so many things 
more or less alike, be they ever so beautiful, and the visit 
to a small Jain Temple in Moorish architecture, con- 
nected with a school, and to the Golden Mosque in 
Chandni Chauk are a welcome change. 

Far more interesting is a drive around the native parts 
of the city, which gives occasion to observe more thor- 
oughly the character of the population of Delhi. Not 
only in carriage, manners and features, but also in habits 
and costumes, they differ greatly from those of the prov- 
inces of Bengal, Bombay and Madras. It seems as if the 
cause of this difference lies in a strong" mixture of blood 
with the northern tribes of Cashmere and Punjaub, stal- 
wart representatives of which, stronger, more energetic, 
but not very confidence-inspiring, may be frequently en- 
countered in the streets of Delhi. Other conspicuous fig- 
ures among the crowds of natives are men with bright 
red hair, which forms a peculiar contrast to their dark 
features. Upon inquiry, I was told that among a certain 
class of people it is customary for men to dye their hair 
to this fiery tint as soon as they notice the first silver 
threads in it. 

The celebrated Chandni Chauk, the main and business 
thoroughfare of Delhi, is highly interesting, and perhaps 
unique in its way. Here are all the stores and shops lo- 
cated in which the well-known Delhi embroideries, ivory 
a'nd wood carvings, precious stones, gold and silver wares 
are manufactured and sold. One sees here some won- 
derful things, and only the arrogant perseverance of the 
merchants, who go so far in their greed for business as 
to jump upon the carriage steps in order to offer their 



— 257 — 



ware or to invite a visit to their shops, spoils the pleasure 
of viewing the beautiful goods. But the things themselves 
are so alluring that it is hard to withstand the temptation 
to buy. With the willing help of Caloo I bought some 
interesting curios, among which a small silver casket of 
fine chased work, representing a religious Buddhist sub- 




Chandny Chauk, Delhi. 

ject, should be mentioned, on account of the odd way of 
buying similar goods. A silver article of this kind is 
purchased in Delhi by throwing it into one scale of the 
balance and weighing it down with silver rupees in the 
other, whereupon the price to be paid for the art work 
on the object is agreed on per rupee of weight. Of 



— 258 — 



great interest also is a visit to the embroidery shops, 
where the workmen, squatting on the floor before upright 
frames, manufacture the charming fabrics so well known 
as Delhi embroideries. 

In the company of an Englishman, a chance traveling 
acquaintance, I gladly followed the suggestion of Caloo to 
visit an Indian bath and to view there the famous Nautch 
dance. But I must say that what we saw in that place 
was hardly the genuine Nautch, as it strongly resembled 
the notorious Coochie-coochie, and the whole perform- 
ance of the rather good-looking dark-skinned dancer 
seemed to be calculated only to create passions in the vis- 
itor which, if it so pleased him, he could gratify then and 
there upon payment of a somewhat considerable obolus. 
To be short, the Indian bath with the Nautch dancer was 
nothing but a den of vice, belonging to the sights of Delhi, 
and the visit of which is urgently recommended to all 
male tourists by their guides. The commission pocketed 
by the latter in this case is said to be very high. 

Caloo certainly deserved a severe scolding for taking 
us there, as I do not know of anything more noisome than 
the lairs of prostitution ; but since this visit gave me occa- 
sion to get a glance at the moral condition of the city, and 
because Caloo shortly before had helped me out of a 
rather awkward position into which I had gotten through 
my own ignorance, I passed the matter over in silence. 

The adventure referred to occurred in the following 
manner: Making an excursion with the same English- 
man to the magnificent tomb of Emperor Humayun, 
Akbar's father, which is situated about two miles from 
Delhi, we stopped our carriage to take a snap-shot of a 
picturesque group of Mohammedan women. I was 
tempted to do this by their peculiar costumes, tight trous- 
ers, richly folded tunics and their grouping around the 



— 259 — 



low stone curb of a well, although I was quite aware that 
it would cause displeasure. 

I had been fortunate enough to secure the desired pic- 
ture without drawing attention to myself, as the chatter 
of the women was so lively that they did not notice me, 
when suddenly one of them caught sight of me just as I 




The Defiled Fountain. 

was replacing the small camera in its box. On a hasty 
remark of the latter the other women also looked at me. 
More excited chatter followed, but the whole thing would 
have passed without further consequences had not my cu- 
riosity led me to step more closely to the well. The moment 
I drew nearer, the women quickly scattered, and when I 



— 260 — 



put my foot upon the curb of the well to look down into 
the shaft, they uttered such shrieks that I became slightly 
scared and stepped back. 

During this whole intermezzo Caloo had remained upon 
the box of the carriage, but now he jumped off and ap- 
proached hurriedly. My English friend also alighted. 
The screaming had meanwhile attracted a number of men, 
who were excitedly talking and gesticulating, and to 
whom Caloo, just as excitedly tried to explain something 
in Hindustani. The group increased in number very rap- 
idly, more men coming all the time, and soon we saw our- 
selves surrounded by a crowd, the threatening faces and 
excited manner of which did not prognosticate any good. 
By this time it dawned upon me that I must have in some 
way, unknowingly, injured the religious feelings of this 
mob, and Caloo confirmed my suspicion in a few English 
words. Being an unbelieving dog, I had defiled a sacred 
well. 

The noisy and angry quarrel, during which the English- 
man and I tried to observe as quiet and unconcerned a 
demeanor as possible, went on for a considerable time, 
until at last the general excitement gradually cooled off. 
The dark faces became less scowling and we even noticed 
some friendly glances. Caloo now informed us that the 
matter was settled, and that the defiled well could be re- 
consecrated without disastrous consequences, but that in 
order to quiet the excitement more thoroughly it would 
be wise to distribute a handful of annas among the mob, 
which I gladly did, and thus the disagreeable occurrence 
was settled to our mutual satisfaction. 

On this excursion to the mausoleum of Humayun, we 
also visited several tombs of saints, of members of Akbar's 
family, and that of King Cherrybrandy, who, as Caloo 
earnestly assured us, had died of the consequences of his 



— 261 — 



special predilection for this beverage, which predilection 
also caused his people to confer on him his singular nick- 
name. But for all that, King Cherrybrandy must have 
stood high in the esteem of his successors, considering the 
rare beauty of the tomb which they erected to his mem- 
ory. As a general thing, though, all these tombs are in a 




The Golden Mosque, Delhi. 

rather neglected and dilapidated condition. Quite close 
to the last one mentioned is a square basin surrounded by 
high walls, very similar to the Holy Well of Benares, into 
which Hindoo boys offer to dive from a considerable 
height for a few annas. At Cherrybrandy's tomb, I had 
a photographic experience which for the amateur is in so 



— 262 — 



far of interest as it proves the strong actinic quality of the 
Indian sunlight. A snap-shot which my English com- 
panion took there of Caloo and me about six o'clock in the 
evening turned out to be excellent, and, contrary to our 
expectations, showed some fine contrasts of light and 
shade. 

Like every visitor to Delhi, I did not fail to see the 
Jama Musjid, the great mosque near the Cashmere Gate, 
and also the Kutab Mosque, ten miles south of the city. 
The Jama Musjid is an imposing structure which is 
reached by a flight of stairs, the breadth of which is aston- 
ishing. It is built of red sandstone with inlaid white 
marble designs and its tremendous court can hold between 
35,000 and 40,000 worshipers, while the mosque proper 
can probably accommodate 1,500 to 2,000 more. The 
prayer halls open into the court, and the services held 
there may be witnessed, therefore, by all the attendants. 

The Kutab Mosque has a graceful colonnade of exquis- 
itely carved columns in Hindoo style, and the adjoining 
Kutab Minar is one of the highest pillars or minarets in 
the world, measuring 238 feet in height, with a diameter 
of forty-seven feet at the base and nine feet at the top. 
Its original height has been diminished by about twenty- 
five feet in consequence of an earthquake which threw 
off the uppermost part. Each of its five stories is sur- 
rounded by a balcony supported by finely carved brackets, 
and broad bands of Arabic inscriptions run in regular in- 
tervals all around the structure. These inscriptions are 
quotations from the Koran. Mounting the Kutab Minar, 
the view extends over a great number of mausoleums and 
tombs in many styles of architecture and various stages of 
preservation, and the prospect is not unlike that of the 
tombs of the Khalifs on the outskirts of Cairo. 



— 263 — 



Not far from the Kutab is one of the most peculiar 
relics of India. This is a solid iron pillar extending- to a 
height of nearly fifty feet with a diameter of sixteen 
inches. These dimensions in themselves would not be so 
remarkable, but the base of the column has been excavated 
to more than twenty-five feet without reaching the end 
of the shaft. A few natives whom we met there assured 
us very earnestly that the column reaches down to the 
center of the earth and that no power in the world could 
remove or even shake it. 

Shortly before leaving Delhi I became acquainted with 
a Belgian gentleman who invited me to go with him on a 
hunting-trip to Cashmere. Although this would have 
been a pleasant climatic change from the increasing reit 
of the early Indian summer,, I was compelled to decline 
his invitation, as I had received a telegram urgently re- 
questing my presence in Paris in an important matter. 
The Austrian Lloyd steamer on which I arranged by tele- 
graph for passage from Bombay to Triest was to sail in 
ten days, thus leaving me barely sufficient time for visits 
to Jeypore and Bombay, two of the most important points 
of the remaining part of my route, and compelling me to 
give up other interesting points such as Baroda and Mount 
Abu. A planned visit to the Court of the Rajah of Kapur- 
tala, whose personal acquaintance I had made during the 
World's Fair at Chicago, had also to be abandoned. I 
learned, however, afterwards, that the Rajah, at the time, 
was already on his way to the Paris Exposition, where I 
had the pleasure of meeting him several months later. 

As we drove from the hotel to the night train, we met 
at the station part of our Benares party, which had just 
arrived in Delhi. I had only time to exchange a short 
greeting with the family H , but as the train pulled 



— 264 — 



out, the noise of the whistle and the rumbling wheels did 
not drown the croaking voice of Mr. K...., whom I 
heard exclaiming: "This is another d. . . . hot place!" I 
must confess that I did not consider it hot enough for him. 



XVIII. 



From Delhi to Jeypore. — Caloo Gives Notice of 
Leave. — Native States. — The Kaiser i Hind Hotel. 
— Royal Service. — Jeypore. — Famine Sufferers. — 
Chase with Leopards. — The Palace of the Maha- 
rajah. — Sawai Madhosingh II. — A Primitive 
Mint. — Excursion to Amber. — Elephant Ride. — ■ 
Caloo Leaves. 

It takes twenty-two long and hot hours on the Bombay, 
Baroda & Central Indian R. R. to get from Delhi to Jey- 
pore, but the journey is not as monotonous as the preced- 
ing ones, of altogether 1,000 miles, since we started from 
Calcutta had been. An uninteresting plain is passed dur- 
ing the night. In the morning barren hills appear on both 
sides of the track, changing later to green ones, which 
at last, in the heart of the native state of Ulwar, give way 
to a charming undulating landscape, covered with small 
trees and shrubbery. This pretty scenery is dotted in 
every grove and on every field with brilliant bits of color, 
which, on closer examination, turn out to be numerous 
peacocks, which, although tame, roam about freely. 

The pleasure of this view was, however, somewhat 
marred for me by the announcement of Caloo that he 
would have to leave my service in Jeypore. I had become 
used to him by this time, and although I could very well 
dispense with his services for the rest of the Indian jour- 
ney from Jeypore to Bombay, I should have preferred to 
discharge him in the latter city. His reasons, however, 
were weighty enough. The plague quarantine in Bom- 



— 266 — 



bay at this time was especially strict in regard to natives, 
and coming from that city he would have run a great risk 
of being detained for a considerable time, and to be ex- 
posed to bad treatment upon his return to his home, Cal- 
cutta. I recognized the cogency of his reasons, and prom- 
ised him his discharge upon leaving Jeypore. 

Jeypore is one of the states in the Rajputana district 
still governed by native Rajahs with a limited in- 
dependency from the English government, but which 
sooner or later are destined to become absolute possessions 
of the English crown. The conditions in most of these 
so-called native states are such that it is most desirable 
for the poor population that the annexation take place as 
soon as possible, and the officials called "Residents," whom 
the Vice-Royal government in Calcutta keep at the native 
courts, are in reality nothing but political spies, whose 
task it is to work towards that end. Meanwhile the 
Rajahs live in the greatest luxury, squeezing the greatest 
possible taxes out of their subjects. 

The land in the State of Jeypore is fairly good and 
could be made more so, if artificial irrigation were intro- 
duced on a larger scale. This would also prevent the nu- 
merous harvest failures and consequent famines which at 
shorter or longer intervals decimate the people of Raj- 
putana. The capital of Jeypore, bearing the same name, 
is one of the youngest cities of India, having been built in 
the seventeenth century by a superstitious Maharajah 
whom the priests, for some reason or other, induced to 
believe that the old capital, Amber, situated only a few 
miles from Jeypore, had to be abandoned. 

Shortly after ten o'clock p. m. we arrived at our destina- 
tion, and I was soon installed in three large rooms of the 
Kaiser i Hind Hotel, outside the city walls. I learned 
next morning that, for the time being, I was the only 



— 267 — 



guest of the hotel, and the only tourist in the city. This 
proved to be agreeable in so far as I could reign as sole 
ruler of the large one-story hostelry, built in Moorish 
style, in the center of a large courtyard surrounded by 
clay walls and cactus hedges. Naturally I enjoyed the 
undivided attention of the servants and the proprietor of 



■ 




Street in Jeypore. 

the hotel. The latter, a Mr. Abdullah, went so far in his 
amiability as to request me to make the bill of fare for my 
meals. The material at service, however, with the excep- 
tion of fruits, was somewhat limited, and of meats only 
mutton could be had. Sheep, I was informed, were the 



— 268 — 



only animals (probably for religious reasons) that were 
killed for consumption in the State of Jeypore. 

But, if the food at Abdullah's hotel did not turn out to 
be royal, he knew how to surround a guest with royal 
service. I took my meals alone, generally in most com- 
fortable negligee, either in the large dining-room or in a 
small garden in front of the hotel, served by Caloo in 
snowy-white kaftan and gloves, while two big Hindoo 
servants stood behind my chair and fanned me with large 
bundles of peacock feathers. Abdullah himself superin- 
tended the service at the table. This short dream of mag- 
nificence was, however, well paid for at the occasion of 
my departure, when I had to run the gauntlet of room- 
boy, table-boys, bisti, garriwalla, and other servants of the 
Kaiser i Hind, down to the old woman who had the inex- 
pressible tin vessel under her charge. They all stood with 
outstretched hands to take leave from the great Sahib. 

Jeypore is undoubtedly one of the handsomest and most 
interesting cities of India. It covers an oblong space of 
two square miles, surrounded by high walls with towers 
and well-protected gates. The main street, about 120 feet 
wide, cuts Jeypore in two almost equal parts. The inter- 
secting streets are nearly as wide, and at each intersection 
there is a market square. The street names are given in 
English id Hindustani. The palace of the Maharajah 
Sawai Madhosingh II. occupies a large space near the 
center, and its courts and gardens are, like the streets, 
illuminated by gas. The water supply is also on a modern 
basis, being derived by means of an aqueduct from the 
Aman-i-Shah River, about four miles distant. There was, 
during our sojourn in Jeypore, a considerable lack of 
water in consequence of a long drought. 

In peculiar contrast to the almost modern plan of the 
city stands the thoroughly Indian character of the popu- 



— 269 — 



lation and the picturesque architecture of the pink and 
salmon colored buildings with their white decorations. 
The large number of fakirs, beggars and famine victims 
adds still more to this contrast. The latter were coming, 
in large numbers, from the country to the city, where they 
hoped to find relief. Until now we had met these poor 
devils only in smaller railroad stations, where they tot- 




Famine Types in the Rajputana District. 



tered alongside the trains, stretching one emaciated hand 
towards the car windows, and patting the region of the 
stomach with the other, while their mouths uttered an 
almost inaudible, pitiful, "Sahib, Sahib !" In Jeypore we 
saw them for the first time in larger numbers, and if I 
ever wished to be a millionaire, it was here where thou- 
sands of famished natives were in need of a helping hand, 



— 270 - 



and where a piece of bread was often the equivalent of a 
human life. The general famine which had reigned for 
months demanded numerous victims in all the famine dis- 
tricts, but in the states ruled by native princes dispropor- 
tionately more than in the provinces directly under the 
English government, where organized help mitigated the 
misery as much as possible. 

Another sad sight was a gang of prisoners in chains, 
escorted through the city by armed soldiers. The bodies 
of the poor wretches, however, looked better nourished 
than those of the living skeletons enjoying liberty, and 
who probably would gladly have changed places with 
them. More grotesque than touching was the sight of a 
crowd of ragged, black-robed and veiled women squatted 
in front of a house, whose plaintive howling indicated a 
native funeral. In a side street we noticed four men car- 
rying a covered cage on their shoulders, out of which the 
threatening growls of an animal issued. A small tip pro- 
cured for us the sight of a magnificent slender leopard. 
The beast was being brought back from the chase, for 
which these animals are frequently trained in India. I 
may here mention, that the State of Jeypore is said to 
contain a large number of small and large game, tigers 
being especially numerous. 

Among the noteworthy buildings the Hawah Mahal 
(Palace of the Winds), a many-storied, gable-shaped 
structure in Saracenic style, is especially remarkable. The 
Palace of the Maharajah is surrounded by courts and 
gardens stretching for half a mile. Its main facade con- 
sists of seven stories. The entrance to this part is denied 
to strangers. Entering through a beautiful bronze gate 
into one of the courts, I was rather curtly requested by 
the guard to close my sunshade, and when I hesitated to 
obey this request, on account of the broiling noon sun, I 



was informed by Caloo that no visitor had the privilege 
of entering the palace compound with an open sunshade. 
There was almost nothing of interest to be seen within the 
grounds, except a number of men, who were working on 
some magnificent gold-embroidered elephant blankets in 
the Private Audience Hall. The shady gardens we were 
not allowed to enter. 




The Palace of the Winds, Jeypore. 

The Maharajah leads a somewhat retired life, and 
rarely receives strangers. Although he has five wives, he 
is childless, and the people are whispering to each other 
something about a curse resting upon him. But if Sawai 
Madhosingh II. does not personally receive strangers, he 



— 272 — 



nevertheless frequently extends to visitors of his capital 
the hospitality of installing them in the Dak Bungalow, 
the present Custom House, if they so desire, and of fur- 
nishing them with elephants and drivers for the purpose 
of visiting the ruins of Amber. This double favor was 
offered me, after I had, in the absence of the English 
resident, sent a request to the Private Secretary of the 
Maharajah for permission to visit Amber, but since I was 
well enough taken care of in the Kaiser i Hind Hotel, I 
accepted only the second privilege, on the occasion of my 
visit to the ancient capital. 

On the way to the splendid tiger collection kept by the 
Maharajah, I noticed in the courtyard a large elephant 
carriage, used during religious processions, and which re- 
minded me very much of the notorious Juggernaut car. 
The tigers are of rare size and beauty, but of extraordi- 
nary ferocity, undoubtedly because their keeper is in the 
habit of angering them for a tip, in order to make them 
roar and jump against the iron gratings. 

Jeypore also has an art school, a mint and a museum. 
In the first, articles of Indian art industry are manufac- 
tured and sold, and it is well worth visiting on account of 
the originality of the objects exhibited there. The mint 
is of great interest on account of its primitive equipment 
and method of working. It is situated in a dilapidated- 
looking building, and the greater part of the work is done 
in barn-like open sheds in the courtyard. At the time of 
our visit, copper coins only were manufactured, and the 
number of workmen was small. While several were occu- 
pied in the smelting department making copper ingots, one 
man was chipping off, with a sharp chisel, small pieces 
from a partly-cooled bar, which another man, squatting 
on the floor, subjected to a weighing trial on a hand-scale, 
throwing out the light-weight pieces, and reducing those 



— 273 — 



of over-weight to the normal standard. A third man then 
heated the latter in a small brazier, hammered them into 
fairly round shapes of equal thickness, and handed them 
in still hot condition to another workman, who, by a heavy 
blow of a hammer upon the die, produced the obverse and 
reverse design of the coin. It is easily seen that a coin 




The Palace of the Maharajah of Jeypore. 

produced in such a primitive manner cannot be much bet- 
ter in design and execution than the first coins of the 
Lydians and the people of Aegina, dating from the seventh 
and eighth centuries B. C. It is, however, astonishing that 
a state in other things fairly progressive, should use such 
a crude method in the manufacture of its metal currency. 



— 274 — 



The museum is a beautiful white marble structure rising" 
in the center of a well-kept park outside the city walls. It 
contains a rich collection of Indian antiquities and modern 
Indian art-works, as well as a portrait gallery of all the 
rulers of Jeypore down to the present Maharajah. These 
portraits, however, are of a stiffness and monotony of 
position and execution which is perfectly tiring to the 
viewer, and which reminds one strongly of the figures on 
playing-cards. From the roof of the museum an extensive 
view can be had over the city, which is surrounded on three 
sides by high ranges of hills. On the precipitous slope 
of one of these hills, called Fort Tiger, the word "Wel- 
come," traced in gigantic white letters, may be discerned 
in spite of the considerable distance. The military band 
of the Maharajah plays in the park one afternoon each 
week, and at the conclusion of this concert the museum 
and the fern-house are generally brightly illuminated. The 
attendance at these concerts is a favorite pastime of the 
population and offers to the stranger an excellent chance 
for the study of types and costumes. 

On the excursion to Amber, which takes a whole day, 
we used a carriage as far as the ancient capital. Having 
notified the secretary of the Maharajah of my visit on the 
preceding day, a handsomely-caparisoned elephant from 
the princely stables, with a mahout seated upon its neck, 
awaited us there. I took my place in the howdah and the 
gigantic animal moved off in a slow trot, which I soon 
asked the driver to moderate. Caloo followed on foot. 
This was my first elephant ride, and although I had on 
former travels made acquaintance with all sorts of steeds, 
such as Turkish ponies, American bronchos and mules, 
Egyptian donkeys, camels and dromedaries, the unaccus- 
tomed motion was too new for me to find much pleasure 
in my first and only elephant ride. Only once have I ex- 



— 275 — 



perienced anything worse in riding, and that was when, 
using a camel to go around the group of the Pyramids of 
Gizeh my animal, for some unknown reason, with a dis- 
mal roar broke into a furious gallop, which shook my 
inner system so thoroughly that I was perfectly sea-sick 
by the time the Bedouin, who was chasing after me, suc- 
ceeded in stopping the beast. 




An Itinerant Fakir. 

Amber is situated about seven to eight miles from Jey- 
pore, and consists at the present time almost exclusively 
of a mass of ruins. The old metropolis of the state, to 
judge by the remnants of its former magnificence, must 
have been an important and beautiful city in its time. 
From the shores of a small lake situated in a romantic 



— 276 - 



valley, the scattered streets, with their dilapidated houses 
and temples, creep up the numerous ravines of the sur- 
rounding hill-range, on the eastern slope of which the an- 
cient magnificent palace of the old rulers of Amber raises 
its walls. The houses have neither doors nor windows, 
aloes and trailing plants creep over the walls and roofs, 
and, outside of a few fakirs and lepers, the birds of the 
air and the beasts of the field are the only inhabitants of 
the city. Lizards flit away at the approach of the wan- 
derer, striped squirrels look down timidly and wonder- 
ingly from the crumbling cornices as if they were indig- 
nant at the intrusion of the stranger, and monkeys chatter 
excitedly in the trees and on the roofs of dilapidated 
buildings. Further up lies a gloomy structure, the Ze- 
nana, and still higher up frown the threatening walls and 
towers of a castle, from which numerous loopholes look 
down into the valley. Out of the center of this forbidding 
mass a high minaret rises, standing out boldly against the 
background. There is also a small temple up there, in 
which even at the present time a goat is daily sacrificed in 
honor of the goddess Kali, as a substitute for the human 
sacrifices of yore. Such, at least, is the legend which 
Caloo interpreted to me. 

After a ride of several hours we had seen pretty near 
everything worth while seeing, and since it was late in the 
afternoon, we started back for Jeypore, not without leav- 
ing a handsome baksheesh for the mahout. It was my 
intention to use the Bombay train the same evening for 
my further journey, but this plan came near bein^ frus- 
trated by numerous dealers in arms and curiosities, who 
awaited us upon our return to the hotel. Only by buying 
an old Rajputana powder-horn and an antique tiger knife, 
did I succeed in escaping their clutches. Running the 
gauntlet of the hotel servants, as related before, we at 



— 277 — 



last reached the railway station. There I discharged 
Caloo, handing him a desired testimonial and paying him 
his wages and return expenses to Calcutta. He seemed 
quite moved and urgently wished to know if I had the 
intention of re-visiting India. He impressed upon me not 
to forget his name and address, and to recommend him to 
other masters and lords. 




An Klephant Carriage. 



As the train steamed out of the station, I shook hands 
with him through the car window, and the last I saw of 
Caloo was when he proudly turned around to see if it had 
been noticed that the Sahib, his master, had really and 
truly shaken hands with him. 



XIX. 



To Bombay. — Wild Monkeys. — More Famine Suffer- 
ers. — Plague Camps. — A Modern City. — Plague 
Epidemic. — Peculiar Types. — An Asylum for Va- 
grant and Sick Animals. — Esplanade Row. — The 
Caves of Kennery and Mont Pezir. — The Cave 
Temple of Elephanta. 

Departing from Delhi our route was to the southwest, 
and from Jeypore on, it is directly south to the Arabian 
Sea. Already on the first morning after leaving Caloo, 
I missed his services sorely. I hardly dared to leave the 
car and my baggage, which, through numerous purchases 
since leaving Calcutta, had considerably increased in vol- 
ume, to take a hasty breakfast at a small station. I suc- 
ceeded in this only with the help of an amiable English 
civil-service official, whose linguistic ability and thorough 
acquaintance with country and people proved very useful 
to me, until we reached Ahmedabad, which was his point 
of destination. 

The country through which we passed was desolate. 
Large stretches of flat, burned-up prairie alternated with 
miles of low wood jungle, the dwarf y trees and dry under- 
brush of which showed in their withered leaves the long 
drought under which this part, together with numerous 
other parts, of India had suffered for more than a year. 
The rivers on our way were dried up, and only in a very 
few of them a narrow and exceedingly shallow channel of 
water was running through the gravel and sand of the 
empty river beds. Far aside from the track appeared at 



- 279 - 



intervals the low roofs of a village, but only rarely did a 
column of smoke rise out of these towards the sky. This 
I took for a proof that there was not much cooking done 
in these parts. On the telegraph poles and the low trees 
along the railroad, even on the tracks quite close to the 
stations, I observed numerous large and small monkeys. 
As a proof of their entire lack of shyness, the fact may 
be cited that the lamp-posts at the stations are wound 




Burning of Famine Victims in the Province of Bombay. 

with barbed wire to prevent the monkeys from "monkey- 
ing" with the lights. 

The miserable famine types at the stations were more 
numerous than on the Agra, Delhi and Jeypore route, and 
I had to provide myself with a larger quantity of copper 
coins for the purpose of adding my mite towards the miti- 
gation of the suffering. Even though the professional 



— 280 — 



beggary in the southern European countries, and espe- 
cially in Egypt, may leave one quite untouched, yet the 
heart is moved with deep pity at the sight of these miser- 
able creatures, who, with fever-lustrous eyes, lying deep 
in their sockets, mutely look up to the car windows hoping 
and waiting for a petty copper. 

As the train passed Ajmere, Mount Abu, Ahmedabad 
and Baroda, I regretted the lack of time which prevented 
me from visiting these places. Especially at Baroda I 
should have liked to stop, as the Gakwar enjoys the repu- 
tation of great amiability towards foreign visitors, and 
his residence contains not only a fabulous treasury, (gold 
and silver guns, a pearl rug valued at one million dollars, 
etc., etc.) but numerous other sights of interest. As we 
neared Bombay, the character of the landscape became 
more tropical, and on awakening on the second morning 
after the departure from Jeypore, I noticed again numer- 
ous slender cocoanut and other palms, which do not grow 
much in Central India and which I had not seen since I 
left Calcutta. Shortly after sunrise and after having 
passed several large plague camps of natives, who had 
fled the city on account of the raging epidemics, the train 
steamed into Bombay station, and the last thirty-six hour 
stage of my overland trip through India was at an end. 

The weather was magnificent and the view obtained 
from the front windows of the Esplanade Hotel over the 
Esplanade unto the great blue sea was truly charming. 
In the breakfast-room I had a chance to read some Euro- 
pean newspapers, which contained much news, although 
the latest of them were more than two weeks old. Later 
in the forenoon a walk along the shore tempted me to 
take a dip in the sea. This, however, was not done in the 
open beach, but in a large basin of masonry work quite 
close to the shore, which was arranged in such a way that 



— 281 — 



the rising tide which filled it renewed the water twice a 
day. To swim out into the bay is, as posters inform the 
bathers, not advisable. 

Bombay, although not the seat of the Vice-Regal Gov- 
ernment, is in reality the metropolis of India, having the 
largest number of inhabitants (nearly a million), the 
greatest wealth and the most important commerce, besides 
being the only noteworthy seat of industry in India. Its 



1 




Victoria Station, Bombay. 

climate, although in general of an unpleasant moist heat, 
is not so murderous as that of Calcutta., and if one con- 
siders the many handsome buildings, large squares, broad 
streets and the general cleanly aspect of the business and 
European quarters, it seems strange that Bombay should 
be such a notorious plague center, for even the native 
quarters do not look half so dirty and unsanitary as those 
of other Indian cities. Perhaps this condition finds its 



— 282 — 



real explanation in the fact that the city is built on a num- 
ber of low. marshy islands, artificially connected with each 
other and with the mainland, in a region where a moist 
heat prevails and in a country where faulty sanitary insti- 
tutions are the rule. At the time of my sojourn in Bom- 
bay, the plague and cholera death rate was frightfully 
large. Funerals were numerous, and constant columns of 
smoke were rising from the enclosed burning-compounds, 
while the odor of disinfectants was noticeable everywhere. 

In spite of this, the street life was animated, and noth- 
ing betrayed the fear and anxiety which induced large 
numbers of the native population to live in plague camps, 
and even caused European families to move temporarily 
into tents on the lawns of Esplanade Row. 

The average type of the natives of Bombay is a peculiar 
one, and, like their character, differs in many points from 
that of the people of other Indian districts. This differ- 
ence, however, cannot be construed to their advantage, for 
they do not enjoy the best of reputation among their coun- 
trymen, and the stranger is frequently warned against en- 
gaging Bombay servants. Even in their external appear- 
ance, especially by the peculiar shape of the turban, which 
is worn flat and garland shaped, they may be distinguished 
from the inhabitants of other provinces. About the Par- 
sees, who play such an important part in the business life 
of the city, and who in their costumes and manners, are 
again vastly different from the other classes, I shall write 
in the next and closing chapter, and only wish to remark 
here that they are especially conspicuous in the streets by 
their costume, character of features, and peculiar head- 
gear. 

Among the sights of Bombay the celebrated Towers of 
Silence stand in the first place. These are unique and I 
shall describe them when entering more into detail about 



— 283 — 



the Parsees. The Crawford markets in which animal and 
vegetable foods are displayed in surprising- variety, and 
which are best visited in the morning, as well as several 
native bazaars, have strong points of attraction for the 
stranger. A peculiar institution of Bombay is the Pinj- 
rapool Asylum for old, decrepit and masterless animals of 
all kinds, which receive there the best of care, and which 
might serve as a worthy example of imitation to many an 




Native Street, Bombay. 

European or American city. The Victoria Gardens with 
the Albert Museum and a large menagerie, are favored 
resorts, and a drive to Malabar Hill, the fashionable resi- 
dence quarter, is amply repaid by the splendid view over 
city and harbor, which is obtained there at various points. 
The afternoon concerts on Esplanade Row, like those in 
the Eden Gardens of Calcutta, cause the fashionable world 
to assemble there, and from four to seven o'clock p. m. 



— 284 — 



numerous private and public vehicles of all kinds are 
driven along the sea-shore. Most conspicuous in these are 
the Parsee ladies, with their picturesque costumes and 
Oriental beauty, who form a strong contrast to the ladies 
of the European colony. There is, however, with few ex- 
ceptions, no social intercourse between them. 

Of the public buildings of Bombay there are to be men- 
tioned first of all the City Hall, a magnificent structure in 
Romanic style, surmounted by a high masive tower, and 
containing a fine museum and splendid library, the great 
Cathedral of St. Thomas and the University. The Vic- 
toria railroad station is an imposing building which may 
be compared favorably with the most noted similar struct- 
ures of Europe and America. The Post and Telegraph 
offices, the Mint and the High Court buildings also de- 
serve to be mentioned with the others. Very interesting 
is a visit to the Sir Jamsetjee Jeejebhoy Art School and 
no stranger should miss it. All these buildings, in con- 
junction with some artistic monuments, such as those of 
Queen Victoria and the Prince of Wales, give the city the 
character of an European metropolis, which is only mod- 
ified by the luxuriant tropical vegetation and the Oriental 
street life. 

All together, Bombay is not an extraordinarily interest- 
ing city, at least not in the same sense as the others I 
visited in India. The various cave temples situated within 
a radius of twenty-five miles of Bombay are, however, a 
great attraction. Besides the celebrated temple on the 
Island of Elephanta in the harbor of Bombay, which may 
be easily and comfortably reached, the caves of Kennery 
and Mont Pezir are worth visiting. The latter caves, of 
which there are more than a hundred, offer some note- 
worthy sights, even if one has seen Elephanta before, and 
the great temple with its vaulted nave forty feet high and 



— 285 — 



its thirty-four octagonal pillars certainly produces an im- 
posing effect. At any rate, the trip of some twenty odd 
miles by rail and one and one-half hours by carriage from 
the station Borivli to these cave temples repays the trouble, 
and a visit to them may be recommended to anyone who 
has time and leisure, even if he has seen the far more in- 
teresting cave temple of Elephanta. 




The Author on the Island of Elephanta. 

It was a lovely day when I visited the latter. Although 
the sun burned pitilessly upon the mirror-like expanse of 
the harbor, when I boarded a small tug-boat at the Apollo 
Bunder, in the company of several other tourists, a lively 
breeze made the trip of one hour's duration very enjoy- 
able. 



— 286 - 



Elephanta, which is called by the natives Gharapuri 
(Hill of Purification), derives its name from the gigantic 
image of an elephant hewn from the live rock, the re- 
mains of which are at present exhibited in the Victoria 
Gardens in Bombay, and which once occupied a prom- 
inent place among the sacred idols of the island. This is 
situated about six miles out in the harbor, and is composed 
of two hills separated by a valley. The vegetation is luxu- 
riant and tropical. At the landing-place a board walk is 
built far out into the sea and upon our arrival a number 
of small, naked urchins, wading in the shallow water, re- 
ceived us with great shouts of joy and small outstretched 
hands. During high tide, this board walk is partly 
flooded and one has to allow himself to be carried ashore 
on the shoulders of the boat crew. From the landing- 
place a steep stair-path, about one-half mile long, leads to 
the temple. The most comfortable way, however, to get 
there is by means of a sort of open sedan chair carried on 
the shoulders of two or four bearers. A small admission 
fee to the temple is charged by the guard, an Englishman, 
who lives nearby with his family. 

The celebrated temple is hewn into the slope of a rocky 
hill thickly covered with verdure, and all its pillars, statues 
and relief sculptures are carved from the living stone. 
This work is all the more worthy of admiration if one con- 
siders the care and patience which was necessary in its 
execution. The time from which these works date cannot 
be determined with any degree of certainty, since there 
are only few sources which may serve for its establish- 
ment. The greater number of Indian archaeologists have, 
however, agreed on the time between the eighth and 
twelfth centuries A. D. as the most probable period in 
which the Temple of Elephanta was erected. The labor 
must have been performed painfully with hammer and 



— 287 - 



chisel, for even if proper explosives had been known at 
that time, their use would have been excluded by the na- 
ture of the work. Time has not passed without leaving its 
traces on this gigantic handiwork of man, and the temple 
at present is in an advanced stage of decay. The reliefs 
especially are considerably mutilated, and of the twenty- 




The Cave Temples of Elephanta. 

six columns, each sixteen feet high, which once supported 
the ceiling of the main hall, eight are broken. 

The temple consists of three parts, the middle and larg- 
est of which is open on three sides and connected by cov- 
ered passages with the two side halls. Shiva is the lead- 
ing character in all the sculptures. His giant three-faced 



— 288 — 

bust on the rear wall of the main temple is nineteen feet 
high, and the relief sculptures throughout the temple relate 
to the Indian mythology in which he plays a main part. 
Perbati, one of his wives, is also represented several times. 
Of the stone lions at the entrance of the temple halls only 
two remain in a condition of good preservation. The total 
impression, in spite of the general decay, is an imposing 
one, and it is easily understood why the Hindoos ascribe 
the erection of these cave temples to the gods themselves, 
and enter them only with feelings of mysterious awe. 
There are other similar ruins on the island, but they do 
not possess much art-historical interest, and since they are 
at a considerable distance from the main temple, they are 
rarely visited by tourists. 

After we had taken some refreshments (?) consisting 
of bad mutton and warm beer and lemonade, at tables 
"al fresco" in front of the guard's house, we enjoyed for 
a while the beautiful view from this point, and then started 
on our way back. 



I 



The Parsees of Bombay. — Their Language, Cos- 
tumes, Manners and Habits. — Religious Cere- 
monies. — Peculiarity of Names. — Investiture 
with Sudra and Kusti. — Wedding Customs. — The. 
Religion of Zoroaster.— Shehenshahi and Kudmi. 
— The Fire Temple. — The Parsee Calendar. — The 
Burial Compound. — The Towers of Silence. — A 
Parsee Funeral. 

Among the many picturesque types which the stranger 
encounters in the bustling street crowds of Bombay, there 
are none more interesting than those of the Parsees. Alto- 
gether, there are about 95,000 of this race and religious 
denomination living in India, 45,000 of whom inhabit 
Bombay, the rest being scattered in the presidency of Bom- 
bay and other parts of India where commerce and indus- 
try is largely controlled by them. About 8,000 are living 
in Persia, the original home of the Parsees, from which 
country they were driven by Mohammedan conquerors in 
the seventh century A. D. The Bombay settlement dates 
prior to the cession of the city by the Portuguese to the 
English in 1668. Through many centuries the race has 
kept remarkably clear of all mixture with other blood, a 
conclusive proof of which is furnished by the evenness of 
the racial types. Usually of slender, medium figure and 
light brown complexion, which varies just as often to a 
lighter as to a darker shade, the men are conspicuous in 
the street mainly by their peculiar headgear. From the 
front this looks very much like a Catholic bishop's mitre, 



- 290 - 



while the profile resembles strongly the old Prussian gren- 
adier helmets. The material of which it is made seems on 
superficial observation to be black lacquered tin, but is in 
reality a kind of printed wax cloth imported from China. 
This head piece is called "Pagri." Below it the Parsee 
invariably wears a small black skull cap, and never is an 
orthodox Parsee seen with uncovered head. 

There is, however, among them a small progressive ele- 
ment, represented mainly by the younger men. Thus, I 
met on the steamer "Imperatrix," on the way from Bom- 
bay to Triest, a young Parsee who came to meals bare- 
headed, and was dressed entirely according to European 
fashion, while his traveling companions, two middle-aged 
men, although not wearing the Pagri, never dispensed 
with the black skull cap. They also wore the "Angrakha," 
a long street coat, which they did not exchange for Euro- 
pean dress until the arrival of the steamer in Triest. Two 
ladies in the same party always wore their national cos- 
tume, even in Paris, where I perchance happened to meet 
them again, and where I myself became an object of curi- 
osity on the boulevards and exposition grounds, whenever 
I appeared in their company. 

Socially of the same conservatism as in costume and 
manners, the Parsee men and women of Bombay, as well 
as of the few other parts of India where they are met with, 
form a class by themselves, and outside of business inter- 
course with non-Parsees their social connections are al- 
most entirely restricted to relatives and friends among 
their own religious community. The women are submis- 
sive, faithful wives, and in every respect more conserva- 
tive than the men, but they enjoy equal privileges with 
them in family and society, contrary to former usage and 
to the general condition of women among Oriental peoples. 

The costume of the Parsee woman is picturesque in its 



- 291 - 



simplicity. It consists of silk trousers, a loose white gar- 
ment reaching- to the ground, and a long scarf of woolen 
goods which is wound in rich folds around hips and 
bosom, and from there carried over the lustrous black 




An Orthodox Parsee Gentleman. 

hair and under the chin, back to the right shoulder. These 
scarfs are called "Saree," and although worn in all colors, 
they are generally of one shade without any pattern, but 



richly embroidered. Widows wear the Saree always plain 
and without any adornments. The hair under the Saree 
is covered by the "Mathabana/' a thin linen cloth. Nose 
rings, which were formerly worn quite generally, have 
been abolished entirely. As a rule, the complexion of the 
women is lighter than that of the men, and frequently one 
may notice, especially among the occupants of private and 
public carriages, which roll down Esplanade Row about 
sunset, beauties, which, although of strictly Oriental char- 
acter, are nevertheless very attractive. Velvety black, ten- 
der and languishing eyes seem to be a general character- 
istic. Whether these eyes can become fiery and passionate, 
I regret not to be able to state, having had no chance to 
look deeply into any of them. 

Parsees are generally encumbered with three names. I 
use the expression "encumbered" purposely, and the 
reader will find it justified when he tries to pronounce 
such examples as : "Framjee Pestunjee Jamshedjee" or 
"Muncherjee Eduljee Manakjee." The double "e" is the 
masculine ending, and of the three names, the first repre- 
sents the individual, the second the paternal, and the third 
the family name. Female names, as a rule, end with "ai" 
like "Goolbai," "Dosibal," "Kuvarbai." 

The intercourse between the sexes is free and unham- 
pered, although not entirely so according to American 
ideas. Dancing is an unknown pleasure among the Par- 
sees. Intermarriages with members of other religious de- 
nominations are almost unheard of, and very rarely it 
happens that a progressively inclined young Parsee gets 
himself a bride outside of his religious pale. No case, 
however, is known where a Parsee, even under such cir- 
cumstances, became a renegade, and never, according to 
my friend and informer, Mervanjee D. M. Jeejebhoy, has 
it, occurred that a Parsee girl married a non-Parsee. 



— 293 — 



I should mention here that outside of some generalities, 
all intimate information about Parsee religious customs, 
family life, funeral ceremonials, etc., was gamed by me 
through this friend, who is an influential member of the 
Bombay Parsee community. That such source of infor- 
mation deserves full credit is undeniable, and I cannot 
thank Mr. Jeejebhoy enough for the willingness and ami- 
ability with which he initiated me into things about which 
a Parsee generally does mot speak with an outsider. 

Just as Parsee men and women are easily distinguished 
from other street types, so is it the case with Parsee chil- 
dren, and especially with the little girls, who look exceed- 
ingly ludicrous in their short skirts reaching only to the 
middle of the thigh and long white trousers, the embroid- 
ered or lace edge of which falls down to the ankle. This 
costume is also worn by the little boys, and it is only by 
the length of hair that the sexes may be distinguished. 
The community has its own large schools in which the 
sexes are educated separately, and which strangers are 
allowed to visit freely. Instruction is given in the Gujer- 
ati language, a Hindoo dialect, which is generally spoken 
by the Parsees, who have lost their original language, but 
great stress is laid on the learning of English. 

Between the seventh and thirteenth year, the Parsee 
boy or girl is formally confirmed, and with this act offi- 
cially admitted into the religious community. From that 
time on the boys are allowed to wear the "Sudra" and 
the "Kusti." The first is a white sleeveless cotton shirt 
worn next to the body, and the second a narrow white 
woolen band woven of seventy-two threads, which, wound 
around the body, possesses a specially sacred character, 
and in the daily prayers plays a similar part as the 
"Tephilim" of the orthodox Jews. The seventy-two 



— 294 — 



threads are supposed to symbolize the seventy-two chap- 
ters of the sacred book "Yazashne.'' 

The confirmation ceremony, although important, does 
not necessarily take place in the temple. It is as simple 
as it is original. Before investing the boy with the Sudra 
and Kusti, the child is given a bath by the nearest relatives 
and with the assistance of a priest. During this procedure 
one of its hands rests on its head, while with the other it 
holds a pomegranate leaf, upon which have been sprinkled 
a few drops of water from the sacred white bull which 
is kept in the fire temple. After this leaf has been chewed 
and swallowed, the youthful candidate performs certain 
prayers and ablutions, wherewith the admission into th? 
fraternity of Zoroaster is completed. The ceremony fin- 
ished, almonds, rice and small pieces of cocoanut are 
thrown over the now full-fledged Zoroastrian and presents 
exchanged among the family members. 

The "Gaomutra," *. e., the urine of cattle, to which the 
Parsees evidently prescribe a mysterious power or a sa- 
cred meaning, is also employed in other religious cere- 
monials, especially at the daily morning prayers, before 
which the Parsee invariably rubs his palms, temples and 
cheeks with a few drops of it. 

Just as simple and original as the act of confirmation is 
the marriage ceremony. Marriages are generally arranged 
by parents and engagements made between small children. 
Up to twenty years ago even unborn children were en- 
gaged to each other conditionally. The bride is usually 
given a dowry corresponding with the financial circum- 
stances of her family, although love marriages without 
regard of material interests are not infrequent. The cere- 
mony is performed by two priests, and in the presence of 
two male witnesses, either in the temple, the house, or any 
other suitable place. The contracting couple, separated 



— 295 — 



by a curtain, are seated opposite each other. They are 
encircled by a long piece of cloth and around their bodies 
and hands yarn is wound by the priets seven times. After 
the pronunciation of the blessing, the curtain is removed, 
incense is burned and the couple throw rice, almonds and 
small pieces of cocoanut at each other. From the wed- 
ding-feast the newly-married pair go to the house of the 
groom's parents, where they take their steady abode as 
long as accommodations will permit. 

In spite of their strongly developed sense of gain, which 
has acquired for them the sobriquet of "Jews of India," 
and in spite of the ever-increasing English business com- 
petition, which naturally makes them double their com- 
mercial efforts, the Parsees always find time to perform 
their numerous religious duties, and at no hour of the day 
is there a lack of worshipers in the fire temple. In this 
temple there is no official service by priests at definite 
hours, and the Parsee goes to his house of worship when- 
ever it pleases him. 

The priests form a separate caste called "Mobed," and 
are born to office. They are allowed, however, to inter- 
marry with Parsee women outside of their caste. Their 
rights are mostly restricted to the wearing of white Pa- 
gris and to the exclusive care of the eternal sacred fire 
which is kept up in the temple, and for the nourishment of 
which the believers bring offerings of sandal wood. 

This is perhaps the place to say a few words about the 
religion of Zoroaster, which Parseeism represents. The 
creed is not, as many believe, a polytheistic, but a mono- 
theistic form of religion, and there is only one God com- 
prised in the three different names of "Mazda," "Ahura" 
and "Ahura-Mazda." This God manifested himself to a 
Bactrian or Median philosopher, Zoroaster, who is sup- 
posed to have written down his doctrines in the sacred 



— 296 — 



books of the "Avesta." The ancient followers of Zoro- 
aster had no idols, temples or altars, and considered the 
use of such not only a sacrilege, but a folly. The Parsees 
of to-day also repudiate any representation of their Deity. 
According to Zoroaster's philosophy, creation is the work 
of two hostile principles, a good one called "Spento- 
Mainyush," and an evil one, "Angro-Mainyush," both 
serving the same God. Spento-Mainyush is the author of 
everything good, useful and bright; Angro-Mainyush of 
everything that is dark and noxious. They are in ever- 
lasting conflict, which, however, is to end in the triumph 
of the good principle. 

The modern church is divided in two sects, the "Kudmi" 
and "Shehenshahi," each headed by a high priest called 
"Dastoor." The two sects, of which the last named is 
numerically the stronger, have no opposing doctrines, and 
the principal difference is a disagreement as to a chrono- 
logical date for computing the era of Yazdezard, the last 
king of the Persian monarchy. Kudmi, as well as Shehen- 
shahi Mobeds, the latter of which invariably dress all in 
white, live on the baksheesh of the worshipers. 

Among the four elements, soil, air, water and fire, wor- 
shiped by the Parsees, the latter is considered the most 
sacred, as being the purest symbol of divinity, and the 
accidental extinction of the holy fire in the temple would 
be regarded as a religious calamity. The Parsee does not 
smoke, because he fears to pollute the air, and he does not 
cremate or inter his dead., because he deems to defile 
thereby fire and soil. He prays, like the Mussulman, five 
times daily, during which time he alternately winds and 
unwinds the sacred woolen band, the Kusti, on his body. 
His prayers are performed standing, and when in the 
temple, in the space allotted to the worshipers. The 
sanctuary is separate, and may be entered only by the 



— 297 — 



officiating Mobeds. Here the sacred fire is burning in a 
large silver urn. The walls are decorated with antique 
arms, and here is also the bell which is struck from time 
to time by a Mobed in order to keep away evil spirits, and 




A Parsee "Mobed." 

to purify the polluted air by its sound waves. At short 
intervals one of the priests with a handful of ashes from 
the holy fire called "Rakhia," repairs to the worshipers, 



— 298 — 



who use this to anoint throat, eyelids and the space be- 
tween the eyes. 

The sacred bull is also kept within the temple com- 
pound and mainly for the purpose of gaining his urine, 
which is used in many religious ceremonies. This bull, 
however, does by no means thank his canonization to a 
prerogative of birth, but simply to certain ceremonies by 
which he becomes metamorphosed from an ordinary steer 
into a sacred animal. 

On four days of the month (each month contains thirty 
days, all bearing different names, like "Ardibhest," 
"Adar," "Sarosh," "Behram," etc.), the orthodox Parsee 
is forbidden to partake of meat. The greatest feast day is 
"Pepati" (New Year's Day), which falls about the middh 
of September. The last five days of the year, called 
"Gatha," which do not belong to any month, and which 
are added in order to fill the calendar year, are also holy 
days. 

Among all the peculiar religious and social customs and 
manners of the Parsees, the method of disposing of their 
dead is certainly by far the oddest and most interesting, 
and I believe that nowhere in the world can anything sim- 
ilar be found. Most of the readers certainly have heard 
or read about the mysterious Towers of Silence, but prob- 
ably it has been the lot of only few to visit the Parsee 
"burial compound" on Malabar Hill, the highest eminence 
of Bombay. 

The Parsee community of Bombay guard with jealous 
care the secrets of this compound, and although tourists 
may, upon request, be allowed to enter it, they are always 
kept at considerable distance from the Towers of Silence 
by the escorting guard, and can never witness a funeral 
there. The taking of snap-shots is excluded, since every 
camera is relentlessly confiscated at the entrance gate and 



— 299 — 



is only returned to the owner upon his leaving the com- 
pound. Neither was it possible for me to smuggle my 
camera in, but it was at least returned to me in undamaged 
condition, contrary to a similar experience I had in Gib- 
raltar, where the English military guard had taken charge 
of my photographic apparatus during the time of my visit 
in the rock-galleries. When it was returned to me, I 




The Tower of Silence, Malabar Hill, Bombay. 



found that it had evidently been tampered with by the 
guard as it was in a pitiful condition. 

The closer examination of the gruesome towers was 
even denied to the Prince of Wales during his Indian 
travels, and only a wooden model had been prepared for 
the purpose of enlightening him in this respect. This 
model is still shown to privileged visitors. In reality, it 
suffices to gain a good idea of the Parsee burial method, 



— 300 — 



if the devouring of corpses by carrion birds may be called 
burial. 

The compound, surrounded by high walls, encloses five 
round towers, called "Dokhma" by the Parsees, of approx- 
imately the same height, which, on account of their pro- 
portions, look rather squatty. The largest one measures 
about ninety feet in diameter by thirty in height. Their 
tops appear flat, and their walls of plain masonry bear as 
sole adornment thick layers of the noisome excrements 
deposited there during centuries by the numerous vultures 
which inhabit the trees of the compound. Seen from a 
distance, these layers of excrements have an appearance 
not unlike that of stalactites. The towers are at short 
distances from each other, and are half hidden behind 
trees and shrubbery. Three of them serve for general 
use, one for the disposal of suicides, and the fifth has been 
reserved these two hundred and thirty years exclusively 
for members of the Modi family. 

The designs and inner arrangements of all five towers 
are alike. A low door and a stairway lead to the top of 
the tower and to a round platform, slightly inclined tow- 
ards the center, which is surrounded to a height of about 
three feet by the outside walls, thereby remaining invisible 
to the observer. In the center of this platform yawns the 
grated opening of a deep shaft, from the bottom of which 
subterranean drains lead to several deep wells. Around 
the edge of this shaft are three rows of stone slabs in- 
tended for the exposure of corpses which are placed here 
naked, and with the faces turned towards the sky. The 
row of smaller slabs next to the shaft is designated for 
children, the middle one for women, and the third one, 
next to the wall, for men. Not more than one or two 
hours are necessary for the ever-hungry carrion birds to 
devour a body and to clean the bones thoroughly from the 



-301 - 



smallest particles of flesh, after which the sun and rain 
add their share towards the work of rapid and total de- 
composition. 

When the platform becomes filled and more room has 
to be made for the silent newcomers, the tower guards, 
who are obliged to take a bath after each funeral, sweep 
the bleached and brittle bones into the shaft, where they 
are soon totally decomposed, and finally deposited, by 
means of the .drains, in the subterranean wells, in the 
shape of lime and phosphorus. 

The funerals take place in the morning before nine 
o'clock or before sunset, shortly after five p. m., and only 
at these hours do the big birds get restless in the trees 
and on the walls of the compound, where, during the rest 
of the day, they sit lazily digesting and motionless, only 
turning their ugly heads with a sleepy wink at the ap- 
proach of man. As the funeral processions draw near, 
life comes into the colony of these ill-looking, bald-headed 
scavengers. The branches of the trees begin to move, 
and the thick-bellied hyenas of the air flap their powerful 
wings and whet their crooked beaks expectantly. From 
tree to tree they flutter nearer to the towers, until they 
settle in thick rows on the copings, their hideous heads 
turned towards the slowly-approaching procession. 

The corpse-bearers walk in front and deposit their bur- 
den about thirty yards from the tower. The cover is re- 
moved from the stretcher, and relatives and friends step 
nearer to take in mute sorrow a last look at the face of the 
deceased. Now the two Nasesalars (tower guards) ap- 
proach, take hold of the bier and carry it through the low 
door into the Tower of Silence, followed only by the tear- 
ful glances of the mourners. There the body is divested 
of all clothing and thus deposited upon a slab of the 
platform. 



- 302 - 



The shriekings of the vultures meanwhile has grown 
louder, the impatient flapping of their wings more furi- 
ous, and hardly have the guards left the platform when 
the whole noisome flock on the coping shoots down on its 
prey. And now a perfect pandemonium breaks loose! 
What happens up there no one sees and only the imagina- 
tion of a Breughel could draw the fiendish picture of the 
fighting carrion birds as they ravenously tear their prey 
to pieces, or try to rob each other of a coveted morsel. 

The funeral procession leaves, and soon after the vul- 
tures rise heavily from the platform, carrying shreds of 
flesh or intestines in their bloody beaks, and settle in the 
nearest tree in order to devour the gruesome prey in peace. 
At the end of an hour or so everything has become quiet 
and motionless, the ugly birds sit again upon the copings, 
in the trees and on the compound-walls patiently await- 
ing the next meal. 

* * * * * 

If I have gone somewhat thoroughly into the preceding 
description of the Parsee community, it was with the con- 
viction that I should add thereby an interesting chapter 
to this book and furnish the reader with information 
to obtain which he would otheriwse be compelled to search 
voluminous philosophical and other works. I am con- 
vinced, therefore, that I shall be pardoned, even if the 
last part of the last chapter has left a gloomy impression. 
All you have to do to get rid of this, dear reader, is to look 
out through the window into the bright world, which 
offers for every dark and noxious spot ten bright ones, 
and to be glad that you live in a part of the world where 
no such horrors exist. 

Shall I ever see that fairyland again? Will you, dear 
reader, ever hear from me again ? Qui en sabef 
THE END. 



JUL 6 1903 



